'  ••• 


UCSB   LIBRARY 


•» 


ill!  I8$IW9OTH*g 


VOL.    I. 


LITTLE  DOG  TRUSTY.        HARRY  AND  LUCY. 
ORANG-E  MAN.  FRANK. 

CHERRY  ORCHARD. 


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HARRY    AND     LUCY 


WITH   THE  STOBIES   Of 


LITTLE  DOG  TRUSTY,  THE    ORANGE  MAN, 

AND 

THE   CHERRY   ORCHARD, 


Jin  JUtoss  J0 


MARIA    EDGEW 

JLUTHOR  OF  "FRANK,"   "ROSAMOND,"   " 
ETC.,   F 


CR( 


EDGEWORTH'S 

EARLY  LESSONS. 

ADDRESS   TO  MOTHERS. 

IN  offering  these  little  books  to  those  kind  mothers, 
who  attend  to  the  early  instruction  of  their  children,  the 
authors  beg  leave  to  prefix  a  few  observations  on  early 
education,  which  have  occurred  to  them,  since  the  for- 
mer parts  of  these  books  were  published. 

We  found,  to  our  high  gratification,  during  a  visit, 
which  we  lately  paid  to  England,  that  the  attention  of 
parents,  in  every  rank  of  society,  was  turned  to  the  early 
education  of  their  children. 

Formerly,  a  child  was  left,  during  the  first  eight  or 
ten  years,  to  chance,  in  every  part  of  its  education,  ex- 
cept its  book,  and  keeping  its  clothes  clean — the  mother 
or  the  nursery  maid  attended  to  the  latter,  for  their  own 
sakes — the  father,  remembering  the  praises  that  had 
been  bestowed  upon  himself,when  he  was  a  child,was  anx- 
ious that  his  son  should  learn  to  read  as  soon  as  possible. 

The  object  was  to  cram  children  with  certain  com- 
mon-places of  knowledge,  to  furnish  them  with  answers 
to  ready-made  questions,  to  prove  that  the  teachers, 
whether  parent,  schoolmaster,  or  private  tutor,  had  kept 
the  pupil's  memory,  at  least,  at  hard  work,  and  had  con- 
fined his  limbs  and  his  mind,  for  many  hours  in  the  day 
to  study. 


4  EARLY    LESSONS. 

At  present,  the  attention  of  parents  is  more  extended  ; 
they  endeavor  to  give  their  pupils  leasonable  motives  for 
industry  and  application.  They  watch  the  tempers  and 
dispositions  of  children  ;  they  endeavor  to  cultivate  the 
general  powers  of  the  infant  understanding,  instead  of 
laboring  incessantly  to  make  them  reading,  writing,  and 
calculating  machines. 

To  assist  them  in  these  views,  parents  have  now  a 
number  of  excellent  elementary  books.  Such  a  variety 
of  these  have  of  late  years  been  published,  that,  by  a 
proper  use  of  them,  more  general  knowledge  can  now  be 
acquired,  by  a  child,  with  two  hours'  daily  application, 
than  could  have  been  acquired,  fifty  years  ago,  by  the 
constant  labor  often  hours  in  the  four  and  twenty. 

There  are  persons,  who  think  that  the  ease  with  which 
knowledge  is  thus  obtained,  and  its  dispersion  through 
ihe  wide  mass  of  society,  is  unfavorable  to  the  advance- 
ment of  science  ;  that  knowledge  easily  acquired  is  ea- 
sily lost ;  that  it  makes  scarcely  any  salutary  im- 
pression upon  the  mind,  impeding,  instead  of  invigo- 
rating its  native  force  !  they  assert,  that  the  principal 
use  of  early  learning  is  to  inure  the  young  mind  to 
application  ;  and  that  the  rugged  path  of  scholastic 
discipline  taught  the  foot  of  the  learner  to  tread  more 
firmly,  and  hardened  him  to  bear  the  labor  of  climbing 
the  more  difficult  ascents  of  literature  and  science. 

Undoubtedly,  the  infant  mind  should  be  inured  to  la- 
bor ;  hut  it  can  scarcely  be  denied,  that  it  is  better  to 
bestow  that  labor  upon  what  is  within  the  comprehen- 
sion of  a  child,  than  to  cram  its  memory  with  what  must 
be  unintelligible.  A  child  is  taught  to  walk  upon  smooth 
ground  :  and  no  persons,  in  their  senses,  would  put  an 
infant  on  its  legs,  for  the  first  time,  on  rugged  rocks. 

It  seems  to  be  a  very  plain  direction  to  a  teacher,  to 
proceed  from  what  is  known  to  the  next  step,  which  is 
not  known  ;  but  there  are  pedagogues,  who  choose  the 
retrograde  motion,  of  going  from  what  is  little  known  to 


ADDRESS    TO    MOTHERS.  5 

what  is  less  known.  Surely  a  child  may  be  kept  em- 
ployed, and  his  faculties  may  he  sufficiently  exercised, 
by  gradual  instruction,  on  subjects  suited  to  his  capaci- 
ty, where  every  step  advances ;  and  where  the  uni- 
versal and  rational  incentive  to  application,  success,  is 
perceived  by  the  learner. 

So  far  from  thinking,  that  there  is  a  royal  road  to  any 
science,  I  believe  that  the  road  must  be  long,  but.  I  do  not 
think  it  need  be  rugged  ;  I  am  convinced,  that  a  love 
for  learning  may  be  early  attained,  by  making  it  agree- 
able ;  that  the  listless  idleness  of  many  an  excellent 
scholar  arises,  not  from  aversion  to  application,  but  from 
having  all  the  family  of  pain  associated  with  early  in- 
struction. By  pain,  I  do  not  merely  mean  the  pain  of  cor- 
poral correction,  or  of  any  species  of  direct  punishment. 
Even  where  parents  have  not  recourse  to  these,  they  of- 
ten associate  pain  indissolubly  with  literature,  by  com- 
pelling children  to  read  that  which  they  cannot  under- 
stand. One  of  the  objects  of  this  address  to  mothers  is 
to  deprecate  this  practice,  and  to  prevent  this  evil  in  fu- 
ture. Let  me  most  earnestly  conjure  the  parents  and 
teachers,  into  whose  hands  these  little  volumes  may 
come,  to  lay  any  of  them  aside  immediately,  that  is  not 
easily  understood  ;  a  time  will  come,  when  that  which 
is  now  rejected  may  be  sought  for  with  avidity.  I  am 
particularly  anxious  upon  this  subject,  because  we  have 
found,  from  experience,  that  Early  Lessons  are  not  ar- 
ranged in  the  order,  in  which,  for  the  facility  of  the  learn- 
er they  ought  to  be  read.  In  fact,  the  order,  in  which 
they  were  first  published,  was  the  order  of  time  in  which 
they  were  written,  and  not  of  the  matter  which  they 
contained.  The  first  part  of  Harry  and  Lucy  was  writ- 
ten by  me  thirty-four  years  before  Frank  and  Rosamond 
were  written  by  my  daughter.  Frank  is  the  easiest  to 
be  understood,  and  should  therefore  have  come  first ; 
after  Frank,  the  first  part  of  Harry  and  Lucy  ;  then 
Rosamond  ;  and,  lastly,  the  second  part  of  Harry  and 


O  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Lucy,  which  was  written  long  after  the  first  part  had 
been  published.  This  latter  part  should  not  be  put  into 
the  hands  of  pupils  before  they  are  eight  years  old. 
We  have  heard  children  say,  '  We  love  little  Frank, 
because  it  is  easy  j  but  we  hate  Harry  and  Lucy,  be- 
cause it  is  difficult.'  We  defer  implicitly  to  their 
opinion  ;  well  educated  children  are,  in  fact,  the  best 
judges  of  what  is  fit  for  children.  Moliere's  hackneyed 
old  woman  was  not  so  good  a  critic  of  comedy,  as  a  child 
of  eight  years  old  might  be  of  books  for  infants. 

Whenever,  therefore,  a  child,  who  has  in  general  a 
disposition  for  instruction,  shows  a  dislike  for  any  book, 
lay  it  a  side  at  once,  without  saying  anything  upon  the 
subject ;  and  put  something  before  him,  that  is  more  to 
his  taste.  For  instance,  in  the  following  little  books,  diffe- 
rent parts  of  them  are  suited  to  the  tastes  of  different  chil- 
dren, as  well  as  to  children  of  different  ages.  It  is  therefore 
strongly  recommended  to  parents,  to  select  what  they 
find  upon  trial  to  be  the  best  for  their  immediate  purpose, 
and  to  lay  aside  the  rest  for  another  opportunity.  We 
have  repeatedly  heard  parents  and  teachers  complain  of 
the  want  of  books  for  their  pupils;  can  there  be  a  better 
proof  of  the  general  improvement,  that  has  taken  place  of 
late  years,  in  the  modes  of  instruction,  than  this  desire  for 
early  literature.  When  I  was  a  child,  I  had  no  resource 
but  Newbury's  little  books  and  Mrs.  Teachum  ;  and  now 
when  every  year  produces  something  new,  and  some- 
thing good,  for  the  supply  of  juvenile  libraries,  there  is 
still  an  increasing  demand  for  children's  books.  In  a  se- 
lection of  this  sort,  teachers  of  prudence  and  experience 
are  cautious  not  to  be  deceived  by  a  name,  or  by  an  allu- 
ring title-page  ;  they  previously  examine  what  they  put 
into  the  hands  of  their  scholars;  they  know  that  want  of 
information  in  a  child  is  preferable  to  confused  and  ob- 
scure instruction  ;  that,  for  their  pupils  to  know  any  one 
thing  well,  and  to  be  able  to  convey  to  others  in  appropri- 
ate language,  the  little  knowledge  which  they  may  have 


ADDRESS    TO    MOTHERS.  7 

acquired,  is  far  preferable  to  a  string:  of  ready-made 
answers  to  specific  questions?,  which  have  been  merely 
committed  to  memory  ;  that  an  example  of  proper  con- 
duct, of  a  noble  sentiment,  the  glow  of  6nthuaiaem,  raised 
by  a  simple  recital  of  a  generous  action,  have  more  influ- 
ence upon  the  tempers  and  understanding  of  children, 
than  the  most  pompous  harangues  of  studied  eloquence. 

In  choosing  books  for  young  people,  the  enlightened 
parent  will  endeavor  to  collect  such  as  tend  to  give  gen- 
eral knowledge,  and  to  strengthen  the  understanding. 
Books,  which  teach  particular  sciences,  or  distinct  bran- 
ches of  knowledge,  should  be  sparingly  employed.  In 
one  word,  the  mind  should  be  prepared  for  instruction  ; 
the  terms  of  every  art  and  every  science  should,  in  some 
degree,  be  familiar  to  the  child,  before  anything  like  a 
specific  treatise  on  the  subject  should  be  read.  It  is  by  no 
means  our  intention  to  lay  down  a  course  of  early  instruc- 
tion, or  to  limit  the  number  of  books,  that  may,  in  succes- 
sion, be  safely  put  into  the  hands  of  the  pupil.  Mrs.  Bar- 
bauld's  '  Lessons  for  Children  from  three  to  four  years 
old,' have  obtained  a  prescriptive  pre-eminence  in  the 
nursery.  These  are  fit  for  a  child's  first  attempts  to  read 
sentences  ;  and  they  go  on,  in  easy  progression,  to  such 
little  narratives  as  ought  to  follow.  Her  eloquent  hymns 
may  next  be  read.  They  give  an  early  taste  for  the  su- 
blime language  and  feelings  of  devotion.  Scriptural  sto- 
ries have  been  selected  in  some  little  volumes  :  these 
may  succeed  to  Mrs.  Barbauld's  hymns.  No  narrative 
makes  a  greater  impression  upon  the  mind  than  that  of 
Joseph  and  his  brethren  : — not  the  story  of  Joseph,  ex- 
panded and  adorned  by  what  is  falsely  called  fine  wri- 
ting ;  but  the  history  of  Joseph  in  the  book  of  Genesis. 

When  children  can  read  fluently,  the  difficulty  is  not 
to  supply  them  with  entertaining  books,  but  to  prevent 
them  from  reading  too  much  and  indiscriminately.  To 
give  them  only  such  as  cultivate  the  moral  feelings,  and 
create  a  taste  for  knowledge,  while  they,  at  the  same 


8  EARLY    LESSONS. 

time,  amuse  and  interest.  A  few,  and  quite  sufficient 
for  this  purpose,  may  be  named  ;  for  instance,  '  Fabu- 
lous Histories  ;'*  '  Evenings  at  Home;'  'Berquin's  Chil- 
dren's Friend  ;'  '  Sandtbrd  and  Merton  ;'  '  Little  Jack  ;' 
'TheChildren'sMiscellany;'  '  Bob  the  Terrier ;'  'Dick 
the  Pony;'  'The  Book  of  Trades;'  '  The  Looking-glass, 
or  History  of  a  young  Artist;'  'Robinson  Crusoe;'  'The 
Travels  of  Rolando ;'  a  book  which  I  mention  with  some 
hesitation,  because,  though  it  contains  much  knowledge, 
collected  from  various  authors,  yet  it  is  too  much  mixed 
with  fiction.  '  Mrs.  Wakefield  on  Instinct'  I  name  with 
more  confidence,  because  the  facts  and  the  fiction  are  ju- 
diciously separated  ;  so  that  the  reader  is  in  no  danger 
of  mistaking  truth  for  falsehood.  To  this  juvenile  libra- 
ry, perhaps,  may  be  added  parts  of  '  White's  Natural 
History  of  Selbourne  ;'  and  parts  of  (  Smellie's  Philos- 
ophy of  Natural  History.' 

These  books  are  not  here  named  in  the  order  in  which 
they  should  be  read  ;  that  must  vary  according  to  the 
tastes  and  capacities  of  the  pupils,  and  according  to  va- 
rious accidental  circumstances,  which  it  is  impossible  to 
foresee  or  enumerate.  But  here  it  is  necessary  to  ob- 
serve, that  scarcely  any  one  of  these  books  will  probably  be 
suited,  in  every  part,  to  any  child.  Children  should  not 
be  forced  to  read  a  book  through,  but  suffered  to  pass 
over  what  they  do  not  understand,  and  to  select  that 
which  suits  their  tastes,  which  will  generally  be  found 
to  be  what  they  perfectly  comprehend.  There  is  no 
danger  that  this  permission  should  lead  to  a  taste  for  des- 
ultory reading,  if  the  pupils  are  confined  to  a  certain 
collection  of  books.  They  will,  at  different  ages,  and  as 
their  knowledge  enlarges,recur  to  those  parts  of  the  books 
which  they  had  rejected  ;  and,  the  taste  for  reading  in- 
creasing, they  will,  in  time,  become  perfectly  acquainted 

[*  This  excellent  work  has  been  published  by  Munroe  &  Francis,  un- 
der the  title  of  the  '  Robins  :  or  Fabulous  Histories  ;'  also  new  and  or- 
namented editions  of  '  Berquin's  Children's  Friend  ;'  '  tandford  and 
Merton  ;'  '  Robinson  Crusoe;'  Barlmnld  ;  &c.&c  ] 


ADDRESS    TO    MOTHERS.  9 

witli  everything  worth  attention  in  their  juvenile  library. 
— For  instance,  that  excellent  work,  'Evenings  at 
Home,'  contains  lessons  and  narratives,  suited  to  different 
capacities,  from  seven  or  eight,  to  twelve  or  thirteen 
years  of  age.  It  would  be  highly  injurious  to  the  work 
and  to  the  young  readers,  to  insist,  or  even  to  permit,  that 
the  whole  should  be  perused  at  an  age,  when  the  whole 
cannot  be  understood.  The  same  may  be  said  of  '  The 
Children's  Friend,'  and  '  Sandford  and  Merton,'  the  last 
volume  of  which  is  suited  to  young  men  at  college ; 
while  parts  of  the  first  two  are  fit  for  children  of  seven  or 
eight,  and  other  parts  for  ten  or  twelve  years  old.  In 
these  books,  the  selection  may  be  safely  trusted  to  the 
young  readers  ;  in  others,  the  selection  must  be  made  by 
the  parent  or  teacher  :  for  instance,  in  '  Smellie's  Philos- 
ophy of  Natural  History,'  where  there  will  be  found 
many,  entertaining  and  instructive  facts,  suited  to  chil- 
dren from  eight  to  ten  years,  mixed  with  a  great  deal, 
both  of  what  they  cannot  understand,  and  of  what 
they  ought  not  to  read. 

The  '  Book  of  Trades'  we  have  just  mentioned  as  a 
most  useful  book,  and  it  should  always  precede  Joyce's 
'  Scientific  Dialogues.'  Mr.  Joyce  has  contributed  much 
to  the  ease  of  scientific  instruction  ;  and  parents  should 
do  the  author  the  justice  not  to  put  his  books  too  early 
into  the  hands  of  children. 

But  no  book,  on  scientific  subjects,  that  has  yet  fallen 
into  our  hands,  exceeds  Mrs.  Marcet's  '  Chemical  Dia- 
logues.' Some  of  the  facts  which  it  contains  will  un- 
doubtedly be  remembered  ;  but  it  is  not  for  the  chemi- 
cal facts,  that  this  book  is  so  highly  valuable,  as  for  the 
clear  and  easy  reasoning,  by  which  the  reader  is  led 
from  one  proposition  to  another.  I  speak  from  expe- 
rience :  one  of  my  children  had  early  acquired  such  an 
eager  taste  for  reading,  as  had  filled  her  mind  with  % 
multitude  of  facts,  and  images,  and  words,  which  pre- 
vented her  from  patient  investigation,  and  from  thoso 


10  EARLY   LESSONS. 

habits  of  thinking,  and  that  logical  induction,  without 
which,  no  science,  nor  any  series  of  truths,  can  be  taught' 
The  '  Chemical  Dialogues'  succeeded  in  giving  a  turn 
to  the  thoughts  of  my  pupil,  which  has  produced  the 
most  salutary  effects  in  her  education.  Romantic  ideas, 
poetic  images,  and  some  disdain  of  common  occupations, 
seemed  to  clear  away  from  her  young  mind  ;  and  the 
chaos  of  her  thoughts  formed  a  new  and  rational  ar- 
rangement. The  child  was  ten  years  old  at  the  time 
of  which  I  speak,  and  from  that  period  her  general  ap- 
plication has  not  been  diminished,  but  whatever  she  reads, 
poetry,  history,  belles  lettres,  or  science,  everything  seems 
to  find  its  proper  place,  and  to  improve  whilst  it  fills  her 
mind.  There  is  still  wanting  a  series  of  little  books,  pre- 
paratory to  Joyce's  '  Scientific  Dialogues.'  No  attempt, 
humble  as  it  may  appear,  requires  so  much  skill  or  pa- 
tience, nor  could  anything  add  more  effectually  to  tho 
general  improvement  of  the  infant  understanding  than 
such  a  work.  The  elementary  knowledge,  which  such 
books  should  endeavor  to  inculcate,  must  be  thinly  scat- 
tered in  entertaining  stories  ;  not  with  a  view  to  teach 
in  play,  but  with  the  hope  of  arresting,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, that  volatile  attention,  which  becomes  tired  with 
sober,  isolated  instruction. 

Some  years  since,  I  wrote  '  Poetry  explained  for  Chil- 
dren,' and  I  have  found  it  highly  useful  in  my  own  fam- 
ily. It  has  not,  however,  been  much  called  for.  It  is, 
therefore,  reasonably  to  be  supposed,  that  it  has  not  been 
well  executed.  Such  a  book  is  certainly  wanting ;  and 
if  it  became  popular,  it  would  be  of  more  service  in  edu- 
cation, than  pa  rents  are  well  aware  of.  Nothing  is  earlier 
taught  to  children  than  extracts  from  poetry  ;  they  are 
easily  got  by  heart.  If  a  child  has  a  tolerable  memory, 
a  good  ear,  and  a  pleasing  voice,  the  parents  are  satisfied, 
and  the  child  is  extolled  for  its  recitation.  Nine  limea 
out  often,  the  sense  of  what  is  thus  got  by  rote  is  rieg 
lecled  or  misunderstood,  and  the  little  actor  acquires  the 


ADDRESS    TO    MOTHERS.  11 

pernicious  habit  of  reading  fluently  and  committing  to 
memory  what  it  does  not  comprehend.  There  is  still 
something  worse  in  this  practice.  The  understand- 
ing is  lelt  dormant,  while  the  memory  is  too  much  exer- 
cised j  whereas  the  object  most  desirable  is  to  strengthen 
the  memory,  only  by  storing  it  with  useful  and  accurate 
knowledge. 

Parents  are  usually  anxious  to  teach  history  early. 
'This  should  not  be  done  at  all,  or  should  be  done  with 
great  caution.  There  are  certain  well  known  volumes 
of  Mrs.  Trimmer's,  with  prints  of  Grecian,  Roman,  and 
English  history,  which  are  useful  to  impress  the  principal 
facts,  in  history,  on  the  minds  of  children  ;  and  we  have 
lately  met  with  some  tiny  volumes,  under  the  name  of 
Alfred  Mills'*  '  Pictures  of  English,  and  of  Roman,  and 
Grecian  History.'  The  miniature  prints  in  these  are  far 
superior  to  what  are  usually  met  with  in  such  books  ; 
and  the  language,  and  selection  of  the  facts,  in  these 
miniken  histories  are,  in  general,  excellent.  Abridg- 
ments of  history,  such  as  Cooper's  short  Histories  of  En- 
gland and  France,  Goldsmith's  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
Lord  Woodhouslee's  excellent  book,  or  any  others,  which 
merely  give  the  events,  without  mixture  of  political 
reflections,  may  be  read  between  the  ages  of  eight  and 
ten  ;  but  it  is  absurd  to  put  Hume,  Robertson,  Macauley, 
Gibbon,  or  any  of  our  philosophical  historians'  works,  into 
the  hands  of  children.  All  that  should,  or  can  be  done, 
effectually,  is  to  give  the  young  pupils  a  clear  view  of  the 
outline  of  history,  and  to  fix  in  their  memories  the  lead- 
ing facts  in  the  proper  order  of  time.  For  this  purpose, 
there  are  several  genealogical  and  historical  charts,  tha* 
may  be  useful,  even  at  the  early  age  of  nine  or  ten  : — 
Le  Sage's  chart  contains  the  fullest,  and  Stork's  '  Stream 
of  Time'  by  far  the  clearest  view  of  chronology  and  his- 

*  There  is  an  odd  omission,  which  should  be  noticed,  in  Mr.  Alfred 
Mills'  tiny  history  of  England — he  omits  the  life,  and  records  only  thf 
tltath  >('  Charles  I. 


12  EARLY    LESSONS. 

-ory.  There  are  some  careless  omissions  in  these,  which 
will  probably  be  remedied  in  future  editions.  Priestley's 
Charts  of  History  and  of  Biography  can  never  be  obso- 
lete— To  me,  his  Chart  of  history  is  not  so  clear  either  aa 
Le  Sage  or  as  the  Stream  of  Time;  but  I  hear  from 
those,  whose  judgment  I  respect,  that  it  conveys  to  their 
minds  a  clear  and  comprehensive  view  of  its  subject. 

For  the  purpose  of  fixing  in  the  minds  of  children  a  few 
ol'the  leading  facts  of  history,  chronology  and  geography, 
I  think,  the  technical  help  of  what  is  called  artificial 
memory  may  be  safely  employed.  The  succession  of 
Roman  emperors,  of  English  kings,  the  large  geograph- 
ical divisions  of  the  world,  the  order  of  the  principal  in- 
ventions and  discoveries — such  as  those  of  gunpowder, 
printing,  and  the  mariner's  compass  ;  the  discovery  of 
America,  and  of  the  passage  to  India  by  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  &c.  may  be  chronologically  stored  in  the 
memory,  without  injury  to  the  understanding.  With- 
out encumbering  the  recollective  faculty,  twenty  or  thir- 
ty of  Gray's  memorial  lines  may,  when  selected,  be  ea- 
sily committed  to  memory.  They  should  be  recited 
merely  as  jargon,  till  they  are  perfectly  learned  by  rote; 
then  the  use  of  the  letters,  in  the  terminations  of  the  words, 
which  express  the  dates,  should  be  explained,  and  the 
pupil  should  be  practised  in  the  use  of  these :  they  should 
be  frequently  referred  to,  in  conversation  ;  the  children 
should  be  called  upon,  and  made  ready  in  the  use  of 
their  numerical  symbols,  and,  at  the  same  time,  made 
sensible  of  the  advantage  of  the  knowledge  they  have 
thus  acquired. 

Any  farther  than  this,  I  would  avoid  technical  memo- 
ry. Among  the  ancients,  it  might,  in  some  degree,  sup- 
ply the  want  of  printed  books  of  reference  ;  but,  in  our 
days,  when  knowledge  of  every  sort,  that  has  been  hith- 
erto acquired,  may  be  immediately  referred  to,  in  every 
common  library,  or  in  the  shop  of  every  bookseller,  it  is 
needless  to  load  the  memories  of  children  with  answers  to 


ADDRESS    TO    MOTHERS.  13 

every  possible  question  in  geography  and  history, 
and  with  all  such  learning  as  is  to  be  found  in  task 
books. 

Before  I  quit  the  subject.  I  may  be  permitted  to  suggest 
to  those  who  are  composing,  or  who  intend  to  compose 
elementary  books  for  children,  that  what  is  purely  didac- 
tic, and  all  general  reflections,  ought,  as  much  as  possible, 
to  be  avoided.  Action  should  be  introduced. — Action  ! 
— Action  !  Whether  in  morals  or  science,  the  thing  to 
be  taught  should  seem  to  arise  from  the  circumstances  in 
which  the  little  persons  of  the  drama  are  placed ;  and  on 
the  proper  manner,  in  which  this  is  managed,  will  depend 
the  excellence  and  success  of  initiatory  books  for  children. 
Entertaining  story,  or  natural  dialogue,  induces  the  pupil 
to  read  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  unless  some  useful  in- 
struction be  mixed  with  this  entertainment,  nothing  but 
mere  amusement  will  be  acceptable,  and  it  will  be  diffi- 
cult to  bring  the  attention  to  fix  itself,  without  dislike, 
upon  any  serious  subject. 

In  fact,  early  instruction — I  may  trust  my  own  expe- 
rience, in  the  education  of  a  large  family — early  instruc- 
tion depends  more  upon  oral  communication,  than  upon 
books,  either  task  books  or  books  of  amusement,  that  can 
be  found  for  them,  or,  perhaps,  that  can  be  written. 
Books  should  be  used  to  recal,  arrange,  and  imprint  what 
is  learnt  by  the  senses  ;  they  will  please  the  more,  when 
they  give  back  the  images,  that  have  been  slightly 
impressed  upon  the  memory. 

I  know,  that  it  is  much  easier  to  point  out  what  'm  desi- 
rable, than  to  show  distinctly  the  means  of  accomplishing 
our  wishes.  How  to  fill  up,  from  day  to  day,  the  aching 
void,  in  the  little  breasts  of  children,  is  a  question,  that 
cannot  be  easily  solved.  When  I  recommend  teaching 
as  much  as  possible,  by  oral  instruction,  1  have  this  grand 
difficulty  full  in  my  view  ;  but  1  hope  to  point  out,  that 
means  may  be  found,  by  which,  in  some  degree,  it  may 
be  obviated.  There  is  scarcely  any  object  which  a  child 


14  EARLY    LESSONS. 

eees  or  touches,  that  may  not  become  a  subject  for 
conversation  and  instruction. 

For  instance,  is  the  mother  dressing  ? — the  things  on 
her  dressing  table  are  objects  of  curiosity  to  the  child. 
The  combs  are  of  different  sorts — horn,  ivory,  box,  and 
tortoise  shell.  How  can  the  horns  of  an  ox  be  made  flat, 
so  as  to  be  cut  into  the  shape  of  a  comb  ? — What  is  ivo- 
ry ?  and  where  is  tortoise  shell  to  be  had  ?  A  cane  bot- 
tom chair  frequently  catches  the  attention  of  a  child — 
it  may  be  made  a  first  lesson  in  weaving.  At  breakfast, 
how  many  objects  for  instruction  ! 

The  water  in  a  basin  reflects  the  sun — its  image  dan- 
ces from  place  to  place  as  the  water  moves.  A  spoon  re- 
flects the  face,  distorted  to  a  frightful  length  ;  if  turned  in 
another  direction,  the  face  becomes  ridiculously  short. 

The  steam  rises  from  the  urn — the  top  is  forced  ofi'the 
tea-urn — or  the  water  bursts  from  the  spout  of  a  tea-ket- 
tle. The  child  observes  that  the  water  rises  in  a  lump 
of  sugar,  that  is  dipped  in  the  tea.  The  cream  swims  ou 
the  the  top  of  the  tea — milk  mixes  with  it  more  readily 
than  cream.  At  dinner,  the  back  bone,  and  fins,  and  gills 
of  a  fish,  every  bone  and  joint  of  a  fowl  or  a  hare,  or  of 
any  joint  of  meat,  afford  subjects  of  remark ;  and  all  these 
things,  though  but  very  little  should  be  said  of  them  at 
any  one  time,  may,  by  degrees,  be  made  subservient,  not 
only  to  amusement,  but  to  the  acquisition  of  real 
knowledge. 

It  is  by  no  means  intended  to  recommend,  that  lectures 
should  be  spoken  at  every  meal,  or  that  the  appetites  of 
infants  should  be  made  to  wait  for  an  explanation  of  what- 
ever they  feed  upon — it  is  only  suggested,  that  the  com- 
monest circumstance  of  life,  and  the  commonest  objects 
that  occur,  may  become  the  means  of  teaching  useful 
facts,  and  what  is  of  more  consequence,  habits  of  obser- 
vation and  reasoning.  It  will  be  objected,  that,  al- 
though the  subjects  which  are  here  alluded  to  are  famil- 
iar and  of  daily  occurrence  in  families  of  all  ranks,  pa- 


ADDRESS    TO    MOTHERS.  15 

rents  themselves  are  frequently  not  sufficiently  capable 
of  giving  the  instruction  which  is  required. 

To  this  it  may  be  answered,  that  scarcely  any  parents 
are  so  situated,  that  they  may  not,  without  effort,  acquire, 
from  time  to  time,  the  little  knowledge  which  they  wish 
to  communicate — at  least  so  far  as  is  requisite  to  ex- 
cite and  support  the  curiosity  of  their  pupils. 

All  this  may  be  easily  effected  by  the  higher  classes  of 
parents,  who  have  leisure  to  attend  to  their  children ;  and 
those  parents,  who  have  not  time  themselves  to  pursue 
this  course  of  tuition,  may  find  proper  assistants,  at  no 
great  expense.  There  are,  in  England,many  persons, 
who  would  be  suited  to  such  situations — widows,  and 
elderly  unmarried  women,  who  are  above  the  station  of 
ordinary  domestics,  and  yet  are  not  sufficiently  instructed 
or  accomplished  to  become  governesses.  Such  persons 
might  be  employed,  to  take  the  early  care  of  children, 
while  the  lower  offices  of  the  nursery  maid  might  be  per- 
formed by  common,  uneducated  servants.  No  person 
should  daily  or  hourly  converse  with  children,  or  should 
have  power  over  them,  or  any  share  in  the  management 
of  their  minds,  who  does  not  possess  good  temper,  and  a 
certain  degree  of  good  sense.  Accomplishments,  learn- 
ing, or  even  much  information,  in  the  usual  sense  of 
the  word,  will  be  unnecessary  for  the  kind  of  assistants 
here  described  ;  but  the  habit  of  speaking  good  lan- 
guage, and  in  a  good  accent,  is  indispensable. 

All  the  knowledge  requisite  for  explaining  common 
objects,  to  children  from  six  to  eight  years  old,  may  be 
gradually  acquired,  as  occasion  calls  for  it  daily ;  and 
good  sense,  with  a  little  practice,  will  soon  teach  the 
teacher  how  to  manage  instruction  in  conversation. 

In  families  of  less  affluence,  where  this  subordinate 
governess  or  attendant  cannot  be  afforded,  and  when  the 
mother  cannot  secure  a  friend  to  assist  her,  or  has  not  an 
elder  daughter  to  take  a  part  in  the  care  of  the  younger 
ones,  the  mother  must  give  up  more  of  her  own  time  to 


If)  EARLY   LESSONS. 

her  children,  than  is  usual  or  agreeable,  or  else  she  must 
send  them  to  school. 

Here  recurs  the  difficulty  of  finding  schools,  where 
children  can  be  rationally  taught;  that  is  to  say,  where 
distinct  and  useful  knowledge  may  be  clearly  conveyed 
to  their  understandings,without  unnecessary  confinement, 
slavish  habits,  or  corporal  correction.  To  keep  children 
poring  over  books  that  they  cannot  understand,  or  cast- 
ing up  sums  without  making  them  acquainted  with  the 
reasons  for  the  rules  which  they  mechanically  follow,  is 
all  that  can  be  expected  from  a  common  schoolmaster, 
or,  to  speak  more  properly,  from  a  common  school.  Pa- 
rents send  young  children  to  school,  not  only  to  learn 
what  is  professed  to  be  taught,  but  also  to  keep  theii 
troublesome  infants  out  of  harm's  way.  Were  the 
schoolmaster  ever  so  much  enlightened,  or  ever  so  well 
disposed,  he  must  comply  with  the  expectations  of  pa- 
rents— he  must  keep  his  scholars  apparently  at  work  for 
a  given  number  of  hours — or  he  cannot  satisfy  his  em- 
ployers. 

What  is  to  be  done? 

The  schoolmaster  must  appear  to  do  as  others  do. 
The  remedy  does  not  lie  with  the  school,  or  with  the 
schoolmaster,  but  with  the  parents.  Until  parents  are 
convinced  of  the  inefficacy  of  the  present  system,  things 
must  remain  as  they  are.  When  they  are  persuaded, 
that  a  reform  is  necessary,  the  next  thing  is  to  consider 
how  it  can  be  accomplished. 

To  encourage  good  elementary  schools,  more  liberal 
emoluments  must  be  allowed  to  schoolmasters  and  mis- 
tresses. To  effect  this  purpose,  without  raising  the 
present  price  of  schooling,  nothing  more  is  necessary 
than  to  shorten  the  present  enormous  duration  of  school 
hours. 

Two  hours'  attention  is  more  than  sufficient  for  the 
acquirement  of  any  thing,  which  a  young  child  ought 
to  learn  in  a  day ;  and  even  these  two  hours  should  be 


ADDRESS    TO    MOTHERS.  17 

interrupted  by  a  relaxation  of  at  least  one-third  of  that 
time.  Thus  four  different  gets,  or  classes,  of  scholars 
might  be  sent  daily  to  the  same  school,  and  for  each 
class  the  present  prices  should  be  paid  ;  so  that  the  mas- 
ter might  have  his  salary  considerably  increased,  without 
giving  up  more  of  his  time  than  he  does  at  present. 

The  numerous  schools  for  early  education,  that  are 
establishing,  or  that  are  already  established  in  the  me- 
tropolis, and  in  all  the  large  towns  of  England,  will,  if 
they  be  properly  managed,  leave  little  to  be  desired  upon 
the  subject  of  education,  for  children  between  the  years 
of  seven  and  twelve. 

The  active  modes  of  instruction,  which  Bell  and  Lan- 
caster have  introduced,  are  fully  as  advantageous,  aa 
the  low  price  of  schooling ;  the  children  are  prevented 
from  drowsing  over  their  lessons,  and  their  little  bodies 
are  kept  in  some  degree  of  motion.  Certain  petty 
mountebankisms  will,  by  degrees,  be  laid  aside ;  and 
the  good  sense  of  the  excellent  persons,  who  give  not 
only  their  money,  but  their  time,  to  the  superintendence 
of  such  establishments,  will  soon  improve  whatever  re- 
quires commendation. 

A  good  system  for  infant  management,  as  it  relates 
to  the  temper,  the  habits  of  truth,  industry,  cleanliness, 
neatness,  and  to  the  forming  children  to  habits  of  obser- 
vation, reasoning,  and  good  sense — objects  of  far  great- 
er consequence,  than  the  mere  teaching  to  read  and 
write,  or  cast  up  accounts — remains  still  to  be  formed 
and  executed.  Such  schools  are  wanting,  both  for  the 
middling  classes  and  for  the  lower  classes  of  the  people 
and  I  apprehend  that  they  cannot  well  be  formed  any 
way  so  well  as  by  actual  experiment. 

Ladies,  who  have  leisure,  may,  in  the  country,  make 

trials  of  whatever  occurs  to  them  on  this  subject.     The 

occupations  and  plays,  liberty  arid  restraint  rewards  and 

punishments  of  children,  in  those  little  communities  we 

2 


IS  ADDRESS    TO   MOTHERS. 

call  schools,  may  thus  be  examined  and  their  respective 
excellence  and  defects  may  be  compared  ;  and  in  time, 
some  general  results  will  be  established. 

For  such  an  inquiry,  next  to  a  steady  desire  to  be 
of  service,  patient  attention,  from  day  to  day,  is  what 
must  be  most  effectual. 

These  schools  are  what  are  commonly  called  dame 
schools. 

A  dame  school,  such  as  may  prepare  children  for 
seminaries  of  a  higher  class,  should,  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, resemble  a  large  private  family,  where  the  mis- 
tress may  be  considered  as  the  mother.  The  children 
never  should  be  out  of  the  sight  of  their  mistress,  and 
their  plays,  as  well  as  their  tasks,  should  be  equally  an 
object  of  her  care.  And  here,  as  in  every  other  place 
of  instruction,  the  hours,  or  rather  the  minutes,  of  labor, 
should  be  short,  with  frequent  intermission ;  so  that  the 
habit  of  attention  may,  by  degrees,  be  induced,  and 
may,  by  reiteration,  be  fortified. 

Much  of  that  useful  enthusiasm,  which  animates  all 
classes  of  people  to  encourage  schools  for  young  chil- 
dren, is  owing  to  the  female  sex.  They  have  more 
immediate  opportunities  of  seeing  the  necessity,  and 
of  appreciating  the  merit  of  such  schools  ;  their  leisure 
permits  them  to  inspect,  more  minutely,  establishments 
of  this  sort;  and  their  acquaintance  with  the  early 
propensities  and  habits  of  children  enable  them  to  di- 
rect, successfully,  their  instruction ;  and  it  may  be  rea- 
sonably hoped,  that,  under  their  care,  dame  schools, 
with  mistresses  judiciously  chosen,  may  be  established 
whenever  they  are  wanting.  Another  generation  will 
reap  the  advantages  of  what  has  been  begun  in  this ; 
and  teachers  of  both  sexes,  and  of  various  degrees  ot 
information,  will  hereafter  be  procured  with  ease ;  and 
elementary  schools  will  be  established  in  every  part 
of  the  united  kingdom. 

R.L.E. 


LITTLE  DOG  TRUSTY: 


THE     LIAR     AND     THE     BOY     OF     TRUTH. 


VERY,  very  little  children  must  not  read  this 
story ;  for  they  cannot  understand  it ;  they 
will  not  know  what  is  meant  by  a  liar  and  a 
boy  of  truth. 

Very  little  children,  when  they  are  asked  a 
question,  say  '  yes '  and  '  no, '  without  know- 
ing the  meaning  of  the  words ;  but  you,  chil- 
dren, who  can  speak  quite  plain,  and  who 
can  tell  by  words  what  you  wish  for,  and 
what  you  want,  and  what  you  have  seen,  and 
what  you  have  done  :  you  who  understand 
what  is  meant  by  the  words  '  I  have  done  it  j' 
or  '  I  have  not,'  you  may  read  this  story  :  for 
you  can  understand  it. 

Frank  and  Robert  were  two  little  boys, 
about  eight  years  old. 

Whenever  Frank  did  any  thing  wrong,  he 
always  told  his  father  and  mother  of  it ;  and 
when  any  body  asked  him  about  any  thing 
which  he  had  done  or  said,  he  always  told  the 


20  EARLY    LESSONS. 

truth  ;  so  that  everybody  who  knew  him, 
believed  him ;  but  nobody  who  knew  his  bro- 
ther Robert,  believed  a  woixi  which  he  said} 
because  he  used  to  tell  lies. 

Whenever  he  did  any  thing  wrong,  he  ne- 
ver ran  to  his  father  and  mother  to  tell  them 
of  it ;  but  when  they  asked  him  about  it,  he 
denied  it,  and  said  he  had  not  done  the  things 
which  he  had  done. 

The  reason  that  Robert  told  lies  was,  be- 
cause he  was  afraid  of  being  punished  for  his 
faults,  if  he  confessed  them.  He  was  a  coward, 
and  could  not  bear  the  least  pain  ;  but  Frank 
was  a  brave  boy,  and  could  bear  to  be  punish- 
ed for  little  faults  :  his  mother  never  punished 
him  so  much  for  such  little  faults,  as  she  did 
Robert  for  the  lies  which  he  told,  and  which 
she  found  out  afterwards. 

One  evening  these  two  little  boys  were  play- 
ing together  in  a  room  by  themselves  ;  their 
mother  was  ironing  in  a  room  next  to  them, 
and  their  father  was  out  at  work  in  the  fields, 
so  there  was  nobody  in  the  room  with  Robert 
and  Frank ,  but  there  was  a  little  dog  named 
Trusty,  lying  by  the  fireside. 

Trusty  was  a  pretty  playful  little  dog,  and 
the  children  were  very  fond  of  him. 

'  Come,'  said  Robert  to  Frank,  '  there  is 
Trusty  lying  beside  the  fire  asleep  ;  let  us  go 
and  waken  him,  and  he  will  play  with  us.' 

'  O  yes,  do  let  us,'  said  Frank.  So  they 
both  ran  together  towards  the  hearth,  to  wa- 
ken the  dog. 


LITTLE    DOG    TRUSTY.  21 

Now  there  was  a  basin  of  milk  standing 
upon  the  hearth ;  and  the  little  boys  did  not 
see  whereabouts  it  stood,  for  it  was  behind 
them ;  as  they  were  both  playing  with  the 
dog,  they  kicked  it  with  their  feet  and  thre\v 
it  down  ;  and  the  basin  broke,  and  all  the 
milk  ran  out  of  it  over  the  hearth,  and  about 
the  floor  ;  and  when  the  little  boys  saw  what 
they  had  done  they  were  very  sorry  and  frigh- 
tened ;  but  they  did  not  know  what  to  do ; 
they  stood  for  some  time,  looking  at  the  bro- 
ken basin  and  the  milk,  without  speaking. 

Robert  spoke  first. 

'  So  we  shall  have  no  milk  for  supper  to- 
night,' said  he  ;  and  he  sighed  

'  No  milk  for  supper  ! — why  not?'  said 
Frank ;  '  is  there  no  more  milk  in  the  house  V 

1  Yes,  but  we  shall  have  none  of  it ;  for  do 
not  you  remember,  last  Monday,  when  we 
threw  down  the  milk,  mother  said  we  were 
very  careless,  and  that  the  next  time  we  did 
so,  we  should  have  no  more  ;  and  this  is  the 
next  time  ;  so  we  shall  have  no  milk  for  sup- 
per to-night.' 

'  Well  then,'  said  Frank,  '  we  must  do  with- 
out it,  that's  all :  we  will  take  more  care  ano- 
ther time,  there's  no  great  harm  done  :  come, 
let  us  run  arid  tell  mother.  You  know  she 
bid  us  always  tell  her  directly  when  we  broke 
any  thing ;  so  come,'  said  he,  taking  hold  of 
his  brother's  hand. 

'  I  won't  come,  just  now,'  said  Robert, 
don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,  Frank — Can't  you 


22  EARLY     LESSONS. 

stay  a  minute  ?'  So  Frank  staid  ;  and  then 
he  said,  'come  now,  Robert.'  But  Robert 
answered,  '  stay  a  little  longer;  for  I  dare  not 
go  yet — I  am  afraid.' 

Little  boys,  I  advise  you  never  be  afraid  to 
tell  the  truth :  never  say  '  Stay  a  minute,' 
and  '  Stay  a  little  longer ;'  but  run  directly 
and  tell  of  what  you  have  done  that  is  wrong. 
The  longer  you  stay,  the  more  afraid  you  will 
grow,  till  at  last  perhaps  you  will  not  dare  to 
tell  the  truth  at  all.  Hear  what  happened  to 
Robert. 

The  longer  he  staid  the  more  unwilling  he 
was  to  go  to  tell  his  mother  that  he  had 
thrown  the  milk  down  ;  and  at  last  he  pulled 
his  hand  away  from  his  brother,  and  cried, 
1  I  won't  go  at  all,  Frank,  can't  you  go  by 
yourself?' 

'  Yes,'  said  Frank,  '  so  I  will  ;  I  am  not 
afraid  to  go  by  myself  :  I  only  waited  for  you 
out  of  good  nature,  because  I  thought  you 
would  like  to  tell  the  truth  too.' 

*  Yes,  so  I  will  ;  I  mean  to  tell  the  truth 
when  I  am  asked  ;  but  I  need  not  go  now 
when  I  do  not  choose  it  :  and  why  need  you 
go  either  ?  Can't  you  wait  here  ?  Surely  my 
mother  can  see  the  milk  when  she  comes  in.' 

Frank  said  no  more,  but,  as  his  brother 
would  not  come,  he  went  without  him.  He 
opened  the  door  of  the  next  room,  where  he 
thought  his  mother  was  ironing  ;  but  when 
he  went  in  he  saw  that  she  was  gone  ;  and 
thought  that  she  was  gone  to  fetch  some  more 


LITTLE    DOG    TRUSTY.  23 

clothes  to  iron.  The  clothes  he  knew  were 
hanging  on  the  bushes  in  the  garden  ;  so  he 
thought  his  mother  was  gone  there  ;  and  he 
ran  after  her  to  tell  her  what  had  happened. 

Now  whilst  Frank  was  gone,  Robert  was 
left  in  the  room  by  himself;  and  all  the  while 
he  was  alone  he  was  thinking  of  some  excu- 
ses to  make  to  his  mother  ;  and  he  was  sorry 
that  Frank  was  gone  to  tell  her  the  truth.  He 
said  to  himself,  '  If  Frank  and  I  both  were 
to  say  that  we  did  not  throw  down  the  basin, 
she  would  believe  us,  and  we  should  have 
milk  for  supper.  I  am  very  sorry  Frank 
would  go  and  tell  her  about  it.' 

Just  as  he  said  this  to  himself,  he  heard  his 
mother  coming  down  stairs — 'O  ho  !'  said  he 
to  himself,  '  then  my  mother  has  not  been 
out  in  the  garden,  and  so  Frank  has  not  met 
her,  and  cannot  have  told  her  ;  so  now  I  may 
say  what  I  please.' 

Then  this  naughty,  cowardly  boy  deter- 
mined to  tell  his  mother  a  lie. 

She  came  into  the  room ;  but  when  she  saw 
the  broken  basin  and  the  milk  spilled,  she 
stopped  short,  and  cried  l  So,  so  ! — What 
a  piece  of  work  is  here  !  Who  did  this, 
Robert?' 

'  I  don't  know,  ma'am,'  said  Robert,  in  a 
very  low  voice. 

'  You  don't  know,  Robert  !  tell  me  the 
truth.  I  shall  not  be  angry  with  you,  child. 
You  will  only  lose  the  milk  at  supper  ;  and 
as  fcr  the  basin,  I  would  rather  have  you 


24  EARLY   LESSONS. 

break  all  the  basins  I  have,  than  tell  me  one 
lie.  So  don't  tell  me  a  lie.  I  ask  you,  Rob- 
ert ;  did  you  break  the  basin  ?' 

'  No,  ma'am,  I  did  not,'  said  Robert  ;  and 
he  coloured  as  red  as  fire. 

'  Then,  where's  Frank  1   did  he  do  it  ?' 

1  No,  mother,  he  did  not,'  said  Robert  : 
for  he  was  in  hopes  that  when  Prank  came 
in,  he  should  persuade  him  to  say  that  he  did 
not  do  it. 

'  How  do  you  know,'  said  his  mother, 
'  that  Frank  did  not  do  it  V 

1  Because  —  because  —  because  —  ma'  am, ' 
said  Robert,  hesitating  as  liars  do  for  an  ex- 
cuse, '  because  I  was  in  the  room  all  the  time 
and  I  did  not  see  him  do  it.' 

'  Then  how  was  the  basin  thrown  down  ? 
If  you  have  been  in  the  room  all  the  time, 
you  can  tell.' 

Then  Robert  going  on  from  one  lie  to  an- 
other answered,  '  I  suppose  the  dog  must 
have  done  it.' 

'  Did  you  see  him  do  it  ?'  says  his  mother. 

'  Yes,'  said  this  wicked  boy. 

1  Trusty,  Trusty,'  said  his  mother,  turning 
round  ;  and  Trusty,  who  was  lying  before 
the  fire  drying  his  legs,  which  were  wet  with 
the  milk,  jumped  up  and  came  to  her.  Then 
she  said  '  Fie  !  fie  !  Trusty  !'  pointing  to  the 
milk.  '  Get  me  a  switch  out  of  the  garden, 
Robert ;  Trusty  must  be  beat  for  this.' 

Robert  ran  for  the  switch,  and  in  the  gar- 
den he  met  his  brother  :  he  stopped  him  and 


LITTLE    DOG    TRUSTY. 


25 


told  him  in  a  great  hurry,  all  that  he  had  sale 
to  his  mother  :    and  he  begged  of  him  not  t-  > 
tell  the  truth,  but  to  say  the  same  as  he  ha 
done, 

c  No,  I   will  not  tell   a   lie,'   Frank  saio 
'  What  !  and  is  Trusty  to  be  beat  !     He  di 
not  throw  down  the  milk,    and  he  shan't  b- 
beat  for  it.     Let  me  go  to  my  mother.' 

They  both  ran  towards  the  house.     Robei  > 
got  first  home,  and  he  locked  the  house  dooi 
that  Frank  might  not  come  in.     He  gave  th.j 
switch  to  his  mother. 

Poor  Trusty  !    he  looked  up  as  the   switch 
was   lifted  over  his  head  !    but  he  could  nor 


26  EARLY    LESSONS. 

speak  to  tell  the  truth.  Just  as  the  blow  wag 
falling  upon  him,  Frank's  voice  was  heard  at 
the  window. 

'  Stop,  stop  !  dear  mother,  stop  !'  cried  he 
as  loud  as  he  could  call  ;  '  Trusty  did  not 
do  it — let  me  in — I  and  Robert  did  it — but  do 
not  beat  Robert.' 

'  Let  us  in,  let  us  in,'  cried  another  voice 
which  Robert  knew  to  be  his  father's,  '  I  am 
just  come  from  work,  and  here's  the  door 
locked.' 

Robert  turned  as  pale  as  ashes  when  he 
heard  his  father's  voice  ;  for  his  father  al- 
ways whipped  him  when  he  told  a  lie. 

His  mother  went  to  the  door  and  unlocked  it. 

'  What's  all  this  ?'  cried  his  father,  as  he 
came  in  ;  so  his  mother  told  him  all  that  had 
happened  ;  how  the  milk  had  been  thrown 
down  ;  how  she  had  asked  Robert  whether 
he  had  done  it ;  and  he  said  that  he  had  not, 
and  that  Frank  had  not  done  it,  but  that 
Trusty  the  dog  had  done  it  ;  how  she  was 
just  going  to  beat  Trusty,  when  Frank  came 
to  the  window  and  told  the  truth. 

'  Where  is  the  switch  with  which  you  were 
going  to  beat  Trusty  ?'  said  their  father. 

Then  Robert,  who  saw  by  his  father's 
looks  that  he  was  going  to  beat  him,  fell 
upon  his  knees  and  cried  for  mercy,  saying 
'  Forgive  me  this  time,  and  I  never  will  tell 
a  lie  again.' 

But  his  father  caught  hold  of  him  by  the 
arm — '  I  will  whip  you  now,'  said  he,  'and 


LITTLE    DOG    TKUSTY. 


then  I  hope  you  will  not.'  So  Robert  was 
whipped  till  he  cried  so  loud  with  the  pain, 
that  the  whole  neighborhood  could  hear  him, 
'  There,'  said  his  father  when  he  had  done. 
1  now  go  to-bed  ;  you  are  to  have  no  milk  to- 
night, and  you  have  been  whipped.  See  how 
liars  are  served  !'  Then,  turning  to  Frank, 
'  Come  here  and  shake  hands  with  me,  Frank  ; 
you  will  have  no  milk  for  supper  ;  but  that 
does  not  signify  ;  you  have  told  the  truth, 
and  have  not  been  whipped,  and  everybody 
is  pleased  with  you.  And  now  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do  for  you — I  will  give  you  the  little 
dog  Trusty  to  be  your  own  dog.  You  shall 
feed  him,  and  take  care  of  him,  and  he  shall 


28  EARLY  LESSONS. 

be  your  dog  ;  you  have  saved  him  a  beating 
and  I'll  answer  for  it,  you'll  be  a  good  master 
to  him.     Trusty,  Trusty  !  come  here.' 

Trusty  came  ;  then  Frank's  father  took  off 
Trusty's  collar.  '  To-morrow  I'll  go  to  the 
brazier's,'  added  he,  '  and  get  a  new  collar 
made  for  your  dog  :  from  this  day  forward  he 
shall  always  be  called  after  you,  Frank  /' 


ORANGE  MAN: 


THE     HONEST     DOY    AND     THE     THIEF. 


CHARLES  was  the  name  of  the  honest  boy; 
and  Ned  was  the  name  of  the  thief. 

Charles  never  touched  what  was  not  his 
own  :  this  is  being  an  honest  boy. 

Ned  often  took  what  was  not  his  own  : 
this  is  being  a  thief. 

Charles's  father  and  mother,  when  he  was 
a  very  little  boy,  had  taught  him  to  be  hon- 
est, by  always  punishing  him  when  he  med- 
dled with  what  was  not  his  own  :  but 
when  Ned  took  what  was  not  his  own,  his 
father  and  mother  did  not  punish  him  :  so 
he  grew  up  to  be  a  thief. 

Early  one  summer  morning,  as  Charles 
was  going  along  the  road  to  school,  he  met  a 
man  leading  a  horse  which  was  laden  with 
panniers. 

The  man  stopped  at  the  door  of  a  public 
house  which  was  by  the  road  side :  and  he  said 
to  the  landlord,  who  came  to  the  door,  'I 


30  EARLY    LESSONS. 

won't  have  my  horse  unloaded  ;  I  shall  only 
stop  with  you  while  I  eat  my  breakfast.  Give 
my  horse  to  some  one  to  hold  here  on  the  road, 
and  let  the  horse  have  a  little  hay  to  eat.' 

The  landlord  called  ;  but  there  was  no  one 
in  the  way  ;  so  he  beckoned  to  Charles,  who 
was  going  by,and  begged  him  to  hold  the  horse. 

'  O,'  said  the  man,  '  but  can  you  engage 
him  to  be  an  honest  boy  ?  for  these  are  or- 
anges in  my  baskets  ;  and  it  is  not  every  lit- 
tle boy  one  can  leave  with  oranges.' 

'  Yes,'  said  the  landlord,  '  I  have  known 
Charles  from  the  cradle  upwards,  and  I  nev- 
er caught  him  in  a  lie  or  a  theft  :  all  the 
parish  knows  him  to  be  an  honest  boy  ;  I'll 
engage  your  oranges  will  be  as  safe  with 
him,  as  if  you  were  by  yourself.' 

'  Can  you  so  ?'  said  the  orange  man ;  '  then 
I'll  engage,  my  lad,  to  give  you  the  finest  or- 
ange in  my  basket,  when  I  come  from  break- 
fast, if  you  will  watch  the  rest  whilst  I  am 
away.' 

'  Yes,'  said  Charles,  '  I  will  take  care  of 
your  oranges.' 

So  the  man  put  the  bridle  into  his 
hand,  and  he  went  into  the  house  to  eat  his 
breakfast. 

Charles  had  watched  the  horse  and  the  or- 
anges about  five  minutes,  when  he  saw  one 
of  his  schoolfellows  coming  towards  him.  As 
he  came  nearer  Charles  saw  that  it  was  Ned. 

Ned  stopped  as  he  passed,  and  said,  'Good- 
morrow  to  you,  Charles  ;  what  are  you  do- 


THE    ORANGE    MAN.  31 

ing  there  ?  whose  horse  is  that  ?  and  what 
have  you  got  in  the  baskets  V 

i  There  are  oranges  in  the  baskets,'  said 
Charles  ;  '  and  a  man,  who  has  just  gone 
into  the  inn  here,  to  eat  his  breakfast,  bid  me 
take  care  of  them,  and  so  I  did  ;  because  he 
said  he  would  give  me  an  orange,  when  he 
came  back  again.' 

'  An  orange  !'  cried  Ned  ;  '  are  you  to  have 
a  whole  orange  1  I  wish  I  was  to  have  one  ! 
However,  let  me  look  how  large  they  are.'  Say- 
ing this,  Ned  went  towards  the  pannier, and  lift- 
ed up  the  cloth  that  covered  it.  '  La  !  what 
fine  oranges  !'  he  exclaimed  the  moment  he 
saw  them  :  '  Let  me  touch  them,  to  feel  if 
they  are  ripe.' 

'  No,'  said  Charles,  '  you  had  better  not ; 
what  signifies  it  to  you  whether  they  are  ripe, 
you  know,  since  you  are  not  to  eat  them.  You 
should  not  meddle  with  them  ;  they  are  not 
yours  :  You  must  not  touch  them.' 

'  Not  touch  them  !  surely,'  said  Ned, 
'  there's  no  harm  in  touching-  them.  You 
don't  think  I  mean  to  steal  them  I  suppose.7 
So  Ned  put  his  hand  into  the  orange-man's 
basket,  and  he  took  up  an  orange,  and  he  felt 
it  ;  and  when  he  had  felt  it,  he  smelled  it. 
'  It  smells  very  sweet,'  said  he,  '  and  it  feels 
very  ripe  ;  I  long  to  taste  it ;  I  will  only  just 
suck  one  drop  of  juice  at  the  top.'  Saying 
these  words,  he  put  the  orange  to  his  mouth. 

Little  boys,  who  wish  to  be  honest,  beware 
of  temptation  ;  do  not  depend  too  much  upon 


32  EARLY   LESSONS. 

yourselves  ;  and  remember  that  it  is  easier  tc 
resolve  to  do  right  at  first,  than  at  last.  Peo- 
ple are  led  on  by  little  and  little  to  do  wrong. 

The  sight  of  the  oranges  tempted  Ned  to 
touch  them  ;  and  the  touch  tempted  him  to 
smell  them  ;  and  the  smell  tempted  him  to 
taste  them. 

'  What  are  you  about,  Ned  7'  cried  Charles, 
taking  hold  of  his  arm.  You  said  you  only 
wanted  to  smell  the  orange  ;  do  put  it  down, 
for  shame  !' 

'  Don't  say  for  shame  to  me,'  cried  Ned  in 
a  surly  tone  :  '  the  oranges  are  not  yours, 
Charles  !' 

'  No,  they  are  not  mine  ;  but  I  promised 
to  take  care  of  them,  and  so  I  will  : — so  put 
down  that  orange  !' 

'  O,  if  it  comes  to  that,  I  won't,'  said  Ned; 
'  and  let  us  see  who  can  make  me,  if  I  don't 
choose  it  1  I'm  stronger  than  you.' 

'  I  am  not  afraid  of  you  for  all  that,'  replied 
Charles,  '  for  I  am  in  the  right.'  Then  he 
snatched  the  orange  out  of  Ned's  hand,  and 
he  pushed  him  with  all  his  force  from  the  bas- 
ket. Ned,  immediately  returning,  hit  him  a 
violent  blow  which  almost  stunned  him. 

Still  however  this  good  boy,  without  mind- 
ing the  pain,  persevered  in  defending  what 
was  left  in  his  care  ;  he  still  held  the  bridle 
with  one  hand,  and  covered  the  basket  with 
his  other  arm  as  well  as  he  could. 

Ned  struggled  in  vain,  to  get  his  hands  into 
the  pannier  again ;  he  could  not ;  and  finding 


THK    ORANGE    MA.V. 


33 


he  could  not  win  by  strength,  he  had  recourse 
to  cunning.  So  he  pretended  to  be  out  of 
breath  and  to  desist  :  but  he  meant  as  soon 
as  Charles  looked  away,  to  creep  softly  round 
to  the  basket  on  the  other  side. 

Cunning  people,  though  they  think  them- 
selves very  wise,  are  almost  always  very  silly. 

Ned,  intent  upon  one  thing,  the  getting 
round  to  steal  the  oranges,  forgot  that  if  he 
went  too  close  to  the  horse's  heels,  he  should 
startle  him. 

The  horse  indeed,  disturbed  by  the  bustle 
near  him,  had  already  left  off  eating  his  hay 
and  began  to  put  down  his  ears  ;  but  when 
he  felt  something  touch  his  hind  legs,  he  gave 


34  EARLY    LESSONS. 

a  sudden  kick,  and  Ned  fell  backwards  just 
as  he  had  seized  the  orange. 

Ned  screamed  with  the  pain  :  and  at  the 
scream  all  the  people  came  out  of  the  public 
house  to  see  what  was  the  matter :  and  a- 
mongst  them  came  the  orange-man. 

Ned  was  now  so  much  ashamed,  that  he 
almost  forgot  the  pain,  and  wished  to  run 
away  ;  but  he  was  so  much  hurt,  that  he 
was  obliged  to  sit  down  again. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was  soon  told  by 
Charles,  and  as  soon  believed  by  all  the  peo- 
ple present  who  knew  him  ;  for  he  had  the 
character  of  being  an  honest  boy  ;  and  Ned 
was  known  to  be  a  thief  and  a  liar. 

So  nobody  pitied  Ned  for  the  pain  he  felt. 
'  He  deserves  it,'  says  one.  '  Why  did  he 
meddle  with  what  was  not  his  own  ?'  — 
1  Pugh  !  he  is  not  much  hurt,  I'll  answer  for 
it,'  said  another.  '  And  if  he  was,  it's  a 
lucky  kick  for  him,  if  it  keeps  him  from  the 
gallows,'  says  a  third.  Charles  was  the  only 
person  who  said  nothing ;  he  helped  Ned  a- 
way  to  a  bank ;  for  boys  that  are  brave  are 
always  good-natured. 

'  O,  come  here, '  said  the  orange-man,  call- 
ing him  ;  '  come  here,  my  honest  lad  !  what  ? 
you  got  that  black  eye  in  keeping  my  oran- 
ges, did  you  ? — that'  s  a  stout  little  fellow,' 
said  he,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  and  leading 
him  into  the  midst  of  the  people. 

Men,  women,  and  children,  had  gathered 
around,  and  all  the  children  fixed  theii 


THE    ORANGE    MAN. 


eyes  upon  Charles  and  wished  to  be  in  his 
place. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  orange-man  took 
Charles's  hat  off  his  head,  and  filled  it  with 
the  fine  china  oranges.  '  There,  my  little 
friend,'  said  he,  '  take  them,  and  God  bless 
you  with  them  !  If  I  could  but  afford  it,  you 
should  have  all  that  is  in  my  basket.' 

Then  the  people,  and  especially  the  chil- 
dren, shouted  for  joy  ;  but  as  soon  as  there 
was  silence,  Charles  said  to  the  orange-man, 
'  Thank'e,  master,  with  all  my  heart ;  but 
I  can't  take  your  oranges,  only  that  one  I 
earned !  take  the  rest  back  again  ;  as  for  a 
black  eye,  that's  nothing !  but  I  won't  be  paid 


36  EARLY    LESSONS. 

for  it,  no  more  than  for  doing  what's  honest. 
So  I  can't  take  your  oranges,  master  ;  but  1 
thank  you  as  much  as  if  I  had  them.'  Say- 
ing these  words  he  offered  to  pour  the  oran- 
ges back  into  the  basket ;  but  the  man  would 
not  let  him.  '  Then,'  said  Charles,  '  if  they 
are  honestly  mine,  I  may  give  them  away  ;' 
so  he  emptied  the  hat  amongst  the  children 
his  companions.  '  Divide  them  amongst 
you,'  said  he  ;  and  without  waiting  for  their 
thanks,  he  pressed  through  the  crowd  and  ran 
home.  The  children  all  followed  him,  clap- 
ping their  hands,  and  thanking  him. 

The  little  thief  came  limping  after.  Nobody 
praised  him,  nobody  thanked  him ;  he  had  no 
oranges  to  eat,  nor  had  he  any  to  give  away. 
People  must  be  honest  before  they  can  be  gene- 
rous. Ned  sighed  as  he  went  towards  home  ; 
'  And  all  this,'  said  he  to  himself,  '  was  for  one 
orange  ;  it  was  not  worth  while.' 

No  ;  it  is  never  worth  while  to   do  wrong. 

Little  boys,  who  read  this  story,  consider 
which  would  you  rather  have  been,  the  hon- 
est boy,  or  the  thief  ? 


CHERRY  ORCHARD. 


MARIANNE  was  a  little  girl  of  about  eight 
years  old ;  she  was  remarkably  good  temper- 
ed ;  she  could  bear  to  be  disappointed,  or  to  be 
contradicted,  or  to  be  blamed,  without  look- 
ing or  feeling  peevish,  or  sullen,  or  angry. 
Her  parents,  and  her  schoolmistress  and  com- 
panions, all  loved  her,  because  she  was  obli- 
ging- 
Marianne  had  a  cousin,  a  year  younger 

than  herself,  named  Owen,  who  was  an  ill 
tempered  boy ;  almost  every  day  he  was  cry- 
ing, or  pouting,  or  in  a  passion,  about  some 
trifle  or  other ;  he  was  neither  obedient  nor 
obliging.  His  play-fellows  could  not  love 
him ;  for  he  was  continually  quarrelling  with 
them ;  he  would  never,  either  when  he  was 
at  play  or  at  work,  do  what  they  wished ; 
but  he  always  tried  to  force  them  to  yield  to 
his  will  and  his  humor. 

One  fine  summer's  evening,  Marianne  and 
Owen  were  setting  out,  with  several  of  their 
companions  to  school.  It  was  a  walk  of 


38  EARLY    LESSONS. 

about  a  mile  from  the  town  in  which  their 
fathers  and  mothers  lived  to  the  school  house, 
if  they  went  by  the  high-road  ;  but  there  was 
another  way,  through  a  lane,  which  was  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  shorter. 

Marianne,  and  most  of  the  children,  liked 
to  go  by  the  lane,  because  they  could  gather 
the  pretty  flowers  which  grew  on  the  banks, 
and  in  the  hedges ;  but  Owen  preferred  going 
by  the  high-road,  because  he  liked  to  see  the 
carts,  and  carriages  and  horsemen,  which 
usually  were  seen  upon  this  road. 

Just  when  they  were  setting  out,  Owen 
called  to  Marianne,  who  was  turning  into 
the  lane. 

'  Marianne,'  said  he,  '  you  must  not  go  by 
the  lane  to-day  ;  you  must  go  by  the  road.' 

1  Why  must  not  I  go  by  the  lane  to-day  T 
said  Marianne  ;  '  you  know  yesterday  and 
the  day  before,  that  we  all  went  by  the  high- 
road, only  to  please  you  ;  and  now  let  us  go 
by  the  lane,  because  we  want  to  gather  some 
honey-suckles  and  dog-roses,  to  fill  our 
dame's  flower-pots.' 

'  I  don't  care  for  that ;  I  don't  want  to  fill 
our  dame's  flower-pots  ;  I  don't  want  to  ga- 
ther honey-suckles  and  dog-roses  ;  I  want  to 
see  the  coaches  and  chaises  on  the  road ;  and 
you  must -go  my  way,  Marianne  ?' 

'  Must !  O,  you  should  not  say  must,1  re- 
plied Marianne  in  a  gentle  tone. 

'  No  indeed !'  cried  one  of  her  companions, 
'  you  should  not ;  nor  should  you  look  so 


THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD.  39 

cross ;  that  is  not  the  way  to  make  us  do 
what  you  like.' 

'  And  besides,'  said  another,  '  what  right 
has  he  always  to  make  us  do  as  he  pleases  ? 
He  never  will  do  any  thing  that  we  wish.' 

Owen  grew  quite  angry  when  he  heard 
this ;  and  he  was  going  to  make  some  sharp 
answer,  when  Marianne,  who  was  good-na- 
tured, and  always  endeavored  to  prevent 
quarrels,  said,  '  Let  us  do  what  he  asks,  this 
once ;  and  I  dare  say  he  will  do  what  we 
please  the  next  time — we  will  go  by  the  high- 
road to  school,  and  we  can  come  back  by  the 
lane  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.' 

To  please  Marianne,  whom  they  all  loved, 
they  agreed  to  this  proposal.  They  went  by 
the  high-road;  but  Owen  was  not  satisfied, 
because  he  saw  that  his  companions  did  not 
comply  for  his  sake  ;  and  as  he  walked  on,  he 
began  to  kick  up  the  dust  with  his  feel,  say- 
ing, 'I'm  sure  it  is  much pleasanter  here  than 
in  the  lane  ;  I  wish  we  were  to  come  back 
this  way — I'm  sure  it  is  much  pleasanter  here 
than  in  the  lane  ;  is  it  not,  Marianne  ?' 

Marianne  could  not  say  that  she  thought 
so. 

Owen  kicked  up  the  dust  more  and  more. 

'  Do  not  make  such  a  dust,  dear  Owen,' 
said  she  ;  '  look  how  you  have  covered  my 
shoes  and  clean  stockings  with  dust.' 

'  Then  say  that  it  is  pleasanter  here  than 
in  the  lane.  I  shall  go  on  making  this  dust 
till  you  say  that.' 


40  EARLY   LESSONS. 

'  I  cannot  say  that,  because  I  do  not  think 
so,  Owen.' 

'  I  will  make  you  think  so,  and  say  so  too.' 

'  You  are  not  taking  the  right  way  to 
make  me  think  so  ;  you  know  that  I  cannot 
think  this  dust  agreeable.' 

Owen  persisted  ;  and  he  raised  continually 
a  fresh  cloud  of  dust,  in  spite  of  all  that  Mari- 
anne or  his  companions  could  say  to  him. 
They  left  him,  and  went  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  road ;  but  wherever  they  went  he  pur- 
sued— At  length  they  came  to  a  turnpike  gate, 
on  one  side  of  which  there  was  a  turn-stile  ; 
Marianne  and  the  rest  of  the  children  passed, 
one  by  one, through  the  turn-stile,  while  Owen 
was  emptying  his  shoes  of  the  dust.  When 
this  was  done,  he  looked  up  and  saw  all  his 
companions  on  the  other  side  of  the  gate 
holding  the  turnstile,  to  prevent  him  from 
coming  through.' 

'  Let  me  through,  let  me  through,'  cried  he, 
'  I  must  and  will  come  through.' 

1  No,  no,  Owen,'  said  they,  '  must  will  not 
do  now;  we  have  you  safe ;  here  are  ten  of 
us ;  and  we  will  not  let  you  come  through  till 
you  will  promise  not  to  make  any  more 
dust.' 

Owen,  without  making  any  answer,  began 
to  kick,  and  push,  and  struggle,  with  all 
his  might ;  but  in  vain  he  struggled,  pulled, 
pushed  and  kicked ;  he  found  that  ten  people 
are  stronger  than  one.  When  he  felt  that  he 
could  not  conquer  them  by  force,  he  began  to 


THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD.  41 

cry ;    and  he  roared   as  loud   as  he   possibly 
could. 

No  one  but  the  turnpike-man  was  within 
hearing ;  and  he  stood  laughing  at  Owen. 

Owen  tried  to  climb  the  gate,  but  he  could 
not  get  over  it,  because  there  were  iron  spikes 
at  the  top. 

'  Only  promise  that  you  will  not  kick  up 
the  dust,  and  they  will  let  you  through,'  said 
Marianne. 

Owen  made  no  answer,  but  continued  to 
struggle  till  his  whole  face  was  scarlet,  and 
till  both  his  wrists  ached  :  he  could  not  move 
the  turn-stile  an  inch. 

'  Well,'  said  he  stopping  short,  '  now  you 
are  all  of  you  joined  together,  you  are  strong- 
er than  I :  but  I  am  as  cunning  as  you.' 

He  left  the  stile,  and  began  to  walk  home- 
wards. 

'  Where  are  you  going  ?  You  will  be  too 
late  at  school,  if  you  turn  back  and  go  by  the 
lane,'  said  Marianne. 

'  I  know  that,  very  well ;  but  that  will  be 
your  fault  and  not  mine — I  shall  tell  our 
dame,  that  you  all  of  you  held  the  turn-stile 
against  me,  and  would  not  let  me  through.' 

'  And  we  shall  tell  our  dame  why  we  held 
the  turn-stile  against  you,'  replied  one  of  the 
children  ;  '  and  then  it  will  be  plain  that  it 
was  your  fault.' 

Perhaps  Owen  did  not  hear  this  ;  for  he  was 
now  at  some  distance  from  the  gate.     Pres- 
4 


42  EARLY   LESSONS. 

ently  he  heard  some  one  running  after  him — • 
it  was  Marianne. 

'  O,  I  am  so  much  out  of  breath  with  run- 
ning after  you, — I  can  hardly  speak  ! — But  I 
am  come  back,'  said  this  good-natured  girl, 
'  to  tell  you  that  you  will  be  sorry  if  you 
do  not  come  with  us ;  for  there  is  something 
that  you  like  very  much,  just  at  the  turn  of 
the  road,  a  little  beyond  the  turnpike  gate.' 

'  Something  that  I  like  very  much  ! — What 
can  that  be  V 

1  Come  with  me  and  you  shall  see,'  said 
Marianne ;  '  that  is  both  rhyme  and  reason. 
Come  with  me,  and  you  shall  see.' 

She  looked  so  good  humored,  as  she  smil- 
ed and  nodded  at  him,  that  he  could  not  be 
sullen  any  longer. 

'  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  cousin  Marianne,' 
said  he ;  c  but  when  I  am  cross  you  are  never 
cross  ;  and  you  can  always  bring  me  back  to 
good  humor  again,  you  are  so  good-humored 
yourself — I  wish  I  was  like  you — But  we  need 
not  talk  any  more  of  that  now — What  is  it 
that  I  shall  see  on  the  other  side  of  the  turn- 
pike-gate 1 — What  is  it  that  I  like  very  much  ?' 

'  Don't  you  like  ripe  cherries  very  much  ?' 

'  Yes ;  but  they  don't  grow  in  these  hedges.' 

'  No  ;  but  there  is  an  old  woman  sitting  by 
the  road  side,  with  a  board  before  her,  which 
is  covered  with  red  ripe  cherries.' 

'  Red  ripe  cherries  !  Let  us  make  haste,' 
cried  Owen.  He  ran  on  as  fast  as  he  could ; 
but,  as  soon  as  the  children  saw  him  running,' 


THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD.  43 

they  also  began  to  run  back  to  the  turnstile ; 
and  they  reached  it  before  he  did  ;  and  they 
held  it  fast  as  before,  saying,  '  Promise  you 
will  not  kick  up  the  dust,  or  we  will  not  let 
you  through.' 

'  The  cherries  are  very  ripe,'  said  Mari- 
anne. 

'  Well,  well,  I  will  not  kick  up  the  dust — 
Let  me  through,'  said  Owen. 

They  did  so,  and  he  kept  his  word  ;  for, 
though  he  was  ill-humored,  he  was  a  boy  of 
truth  :  and  he  always  kept  his  promises — He 
found  the  cherries  looked  red  and  ripe  as  Ma- 
rianne had  described  them. 

The  old  woman  took  up  a  long  stick  that 
lay  on  the  board  before  her.  Bunches  of 
cherries  were  tied  with  white  thread  to  this 
stick  :  and,  as  she  shook  it  in  the  air  over  the 
heads  of  the  children,  they  all  looked  up  with 
longing  eyes. 

'  A  halfpenny  a  bunch  ! — Who  will  buy  1 
Who  will  buy  ?  Who  will  buy  7 — Nice  ripe 
cherries  !'  cried  the  old  woman. 

The  children  held  out  their  halfpence  ; 
and  '  Give  me  a  bunch,'  and  '  Give  me  a 
bunch  !'  was  heard  on  all  sides. 

'  Here  are  eleven  of  you,'  said  the  old  wo- 
man, '  and  there  are  just  eleven  bunches  on 
this  stick.' 

She  put  the  stick  into  Marianne's  hand  as 
she  spoke. 

Marianne  began  to  untie  the  bunches ;  and 
her  companions  pressed  closer  and  closer  to 


44 


EAKLY    LESSONS. 


her,  each  eager  to  have  the  particular  bunch 
which  they  thought  the  largest  and  the  ripest. 

Several  fixed  upon  the  uppermost,  which 
looked  indeed  extremely  ripe. 

'  You  cannot  all  have  this  bunch,'  said 
Marianne  ;  '  to  which  of  you  must  I  give 
it  1  You  all  wish  for  it  V  ' 

'  Give  it  to  me,  give  it  to  me,'  was  the  first 
cry  of  each  ;  but  the  second  was,  '  Keep  it 
yourself,  Marianne  ;  keep  it  yourself.' 

'  Now,  Owen,  see  what  it  is  to  be  good-na- 
tured, and  good-humored,  like  Marianne,'  said 
Cymon,  the  eldest  of  the  boys,  who  stood  neai 
him.  '  We  are  all  ready  to  give  up  the  ri- 


THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD.  45 

pest  cherries  to  Marianne  ;  but  we  should 
never  think  of  doing  so  for  you,  because  you 
are  so  cross  and  disagreeable." 

'  I  am  not  cross  now  ;  I  am  not  disagree- 
able now]  replied  Owen  ;  '  and  I  do  not  in- 
tend to  be  cross  and  disagreeable  any  more.' 

This  was  a  good  resolution  :  but  Owen  did 
not  keep  it  many  minutes.  In  the  bunch 
of  cherries  which  Marianne  gave  to  him  for  his 
share,  there  was  one  which,  though  red  on  one 
side,  was  entirely  white  and  hard  on  the  other. 

'  This  cherry  is  not  ripe ;  and  here's  anoth- 
er that  has  been  half  eaten  away  by  the  birds. 
O,  Marianne,  you  gave  me  this  bad  bunch  on 
purpose — 1  will  not  have  this  bunch.' 

'  Somebody  must  have  it,'  said  Cymon  ; 
'  and  I  do  not  see  that  it  is  worse  than  the 
others  ;  we  all  shall  have  some  cherries  that 
are  not  so  good  as  the  rest  ;  but  we  shall  not 
grumble  and  look  so  cross  about  it  as  you  do.' 

'  Give  me  your  bad  cherries,  and  I  will  give 
you  two  out  of  my  fine  bunch,  instead  oi 
them.'  said  the  good-natured  Marianne. 

'  No,  no,  no  !'  cried  the  children  ;  <  Mari- 
anne, keep  your  own  cherries.' 

'  Are  you  not  ashamed,  Owen  ?'  said  Cy- 
mon— '  How  can  you  be  so  greedy  ?' 

1  Greedy  ! — I  am  not  greedy,'  cried  Owen, 
angrily  ;  '  but  I  will  not  have  the  worst  cher- 
ries ;  I  will  have  another  bunch.' 

He  tried  to  snatch  another  bunch  from  the 
stick.  Cymon  held  it  above  his  head.  Owen 
leaped  up,  reached  it,  and  when  his  compan- 


46  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ions  closed  round  him,  exclaiming  against  his 
violence,  he  grew  still  more  angry ;  he  threw 
the  stick  down  upon  the  ground,  and  trampled 
upon  every  bunch  of  the  cherries  in  his  fury, 
scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  or  what  he  said. 

When  his  companions  saw  the  ground 
stained  with  the  red  juice  of  their  cherries, 
which  he  trampled  under  his  feet,  they  were 
both  sorry  and  angry. 

The  children  had  not  any  more  halfpence  ; 
they  could  not  buy  any  more  cherries ;  and  the 
old  woman  said  she  could  not  give  them  any. 

As  they  went  away  sorrowfully,  they  said, 
'  Owen  is  so  ill-tempered,  that  we  will  not 
play  with  him,  nor  speak  to  him,  nor  have 
any  thing  to  do  with  him.' 

Owen  thought  that  he  could  make  himself 
happy  without  his  companions  ;  and  he  told 
them  so.  But  he  soon  found  himself  mistaken. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  schoolhouse, 
their  dame  was  sitting  in  the  thatched  porch 
before  her  own  door,  reading  a  paper  that  was 
printed  in  large  letters — '  My  dears,'  said  she 
to  her  little  scholars,  '  here  is  something  that 
you  will  be  glad  to  see ;  but  say  your  lessons 
first — One  thing  at  a  time — Duty  first  and 
pleasure  afterwards.  Whichever  of  you  says 
your  lessons  best,  shall  know  first  what  is  in 
this  paper,  and  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  tel- 
ling the  good  news.' 

Owen  always  learned  his  lessons  very  well, 
and  quickly  ;  he  now  said  his  lesson  better 
than  any  of  his  companions  said  theirs  ;  and 


THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD.  47 

he  looked  round  him  with  joy  and  triumph  ; 
but  no  eye  met  his  with  pleasure  ;  nobody 
smiled  upon  him,  no  one  was  glad  that  he  had 
succeeded  :  on  the  contrary,  he  heard  those 
near  him  whisper,  '  I  should  have  been  very 
glad  if  it  had  been  Marianne  who  had  said 
her  lesson  best,  because  she  is  so  good-natured.' 

The  printed  paper,  which  Owen  read  aloud, 
was  as  follows  : 

'  On  Thursday  evening  next,  the  gate  of  the 
cherry  orchard  will  be  opened  ;  and  all  who 
have  tickets  will  be  let  in,  from  six  o'clock 
till  eight.  Price  of  tickets,  six-pence.' 

The  children  wished  extremely  to  go  to  this 
cherry  orchard,  where  they  knew  they  might 
gather  as  many  cherries  as  they  liked,  and 
where  they  thought  that  they  should  be  very 
happy  in  sitting  down  under  the  trees  and  eat- 
ing fruit — But  none  of  these  children  had  any 
money  ;  for  they  had  spent  their  last  half- 
pence in  paying  for  those  cherries  which  they 
never  tasted — those  cherries  which  Owen,  in 
the  fury  of  his  passion,  trampled  in  the  dust. 

The  children  asked  their  dame  what 
they  could  do  to  earn  six-pence  a  piece  ;  and 
she  told  them  that  they  might  perhaps  be  able 
to  earn  this  money  by  plaiting  straw  for  hats, 
which  they  had  all  been  taught  to  do  by 
their  good  dame. 

Immediately  the  children  desired  to  set  to 
work. 

Owen,  who  was  very  eager  to  go  to  the 
cherry  orchard,  was  the  most  anxious  to  get 


48  EARLY    LESSONS. 

forward  with  the  business  :  he  found,  how- 
ever, that  nobody  liked  to  work  along  with 
him  ;  his  companions  said,  '  We  are  afraid 
that  you  will  quarrel  with  us  ;  we  are  afraid 
that  you  will  fly  into  a  passion  about  the 
straws,  as  you  did  about  the  cherries  ;  there- 
fore we  will  not  work  with  you.' 

'  Will  not  you  ?  then  I  will  work  by  my- 
self,' said  Owen  ;  '  and  I  dare  say  that  I  shall 
have  done  my  work  long  before  you  have  any 
of  you  finished  yours  ;  for  I  can  plait  quicker 
and  better  than  any  of  you.' 

It  was  true  that  Owen  could  plait  quicker 
and  better  than  any  of  his  companions  ;  but 
he  was  soon  surprised  to  find  that  his  work 
did  not  go  on  so  fast  as  theirs. 

After  they  had  been  employed  all  the  re- 
mainder of  this  evening,  and  all  the  next  day, 
Owen  went  to  his  companions,  and  compared 
his  work  with  theirs. 

'  How  is  this  T  said  he  ;  '  how  comes  it  that 
you  have  all  done  so  much,  and  I  have  not 
done  nearly  so  much,  though  I  work  quicker 
than  any  one  of  you,  and  I  have  worked  as 
hard  as  I  possibly  could  ?  What  is  the  rea- 
son that  you  have  done  so  much  more  than 
I  have  ?' 

'  Because  we  have  all  been  helping  one  an- 
other, and  you  have  had  no  one  to  help  you  ; 
you  have  been  obliged  to  do  every  thing  for 
yourself.' 

'  But  still  I  do  not  understand  how  your 
helping  one  another  can  make  such  a  differ- 


THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD.  49 

ence,'  said  Owen  ;  '  I  plait  faster  than  any 
of  you.' 

His  companions  were  so  busy  at  their  work, 
that  they  did  not  listen  to  what  he  was  saying. 
He  stood  behind  Marianne  in  a  melancholy 
posture,  looking  at  them,  and  trying  to  find 
out  why  they  went  on  so  much  faster  than  he 
could.  He  observed  that  one  picked  the  out- 
side off  the  straws  ;  another  cut  them  to  the 
proper  length,  another  sorted  and  laid  them 
in  bundles  ;  another  flattened  them  ;  another 
(the  youngest  of  the  little  girls,  who  was  not 
able  to  do  anything  else,)  held  the  straws 
ready  for  those  who  were  plaiting  ;  another 
cut  off  the  rough  ends  of  the  straws  when  the 
plaits  were  finished ;  another  ironed  the  plaits 
with  a  hot  smoothing  iron  ;  others  sewed  the 
plaits  together.  Each  did  what  he  could  do 
best  and  quickest ;  and  none  of  them  lost  any 
time  in  going  from  one  work  to  another,  or  in 
looking  for  what  they  wanted. 

On  the  contrary,  Owen  had  lost  a  great  deal 
of  time  in  looking  for  all  the  things  that  he 
wanted  ;  he  had  nobody  to  hold  the  straws 
ready  for  him  as  he  plaited ;  therefore  he  was 
forced  to  go  for  them  himself,  every  time  he 
wanted  them  ;  and  his  straws  were  not  sort- 
ed in  nice  bundles  for  him  ;  the  wind  blew 
them  about ;  and  he  wasted  half  an  hour  at 
least  in  running  after  them.  Besides  this,  he 
had  no  friend  to  cut  off  the  rough  ends  for 
him  ;  nor  had  he  any  one  to  sew  the  plaits 
5 


50  EARLY    LESSONS. 

together  ;  and,  though  he  couid  plait  quick-, 
ly,  he  could  not  sew  quickly  ;  for  he 
was  not  used  to  this  kind  of  work.  He  wish- 
ed extremely  for  Marianne  to  do  it  for  him. 
He  was  once  a  full  quarter  of  an  hour  in 
threading  his  needle,  of  which  the  eye  was 
too  small.  Then  he  spent  another  quarter  of 
an  hour  in  looking  for  one  with  a  larger  eye ; 
and  he  could  not  find  it  at  last,  and  nobody 
would  lend  him  another.  When  he  had  done 
sewing,  he  found  that  his  hand  was  out  for 
vlaiting  ;  that  is,  he  could  not  plait  so  quick- 
ly after  his  fingers  had  just  been  used  to  an- 
other kind  of  work  ;  and,  when  he  had  been 
smoothing  the  straws  with  a  heavy  iron  his 
hand  trembled  afterwards  for  some  minutes, 
during  which  time  he  was  forced  to  be  idle  : 
thus  it  was  that  he  lost  time  by  doing  every 
thing  for  himself ;  and  though  he  lost  but  a 
few  minutes  or  seconds  in  each  particular,  yet 
when  all  these  minutes  and  seconds  were  ad- 
ded together,  they  made  a  great  difference. 

'  How  fast,  how  very  fast,  they  go  on  !  and 
how  merrily  !'  said  Owen,  as  he  looked  at  his 
former  companions.  1 1  am  sure  I  shall  never 
earn  sixpence  for  myself  before  Thursday  ; 
and  I  shall  not  be  able  to  go  to  the  cherry- 
orchard.  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  trampled  on 
your  cherries  ;  I  am  very  sorry  I  was  so  ill- 
humored  ;  I  will  never  be  cross  any  more.' 

'  He  is  very  sorry  that  he  was  so  ill-humor- 
ed ;  he  is  very  sorry  that  he  trampled  on  our 
cherries,'  cried  Marianne ;  '  do  you  hear 


THE    CHERUY    ORCHARD.  51 

what  he  says?  he  will  never  be  cross  any 
more.' 

'Yes,  we  hear  what  he  says,'  answered 
Cymon  ;  '  but  how  are  we  to  be  sure  that  he 
will  do  as  he  says  ? ' 

'  O,'  cried  another  of  his  companions,  '  he 
has  found  out  at  last  that  he  must  do  as  he 
would  be  done  by.' 

'Aye,'  said  another;  'and  he  finds  that 
we  who  are  good-humored  and  good-natured 
to  one  another,  do  better  even  than  he,  who 
is  so  quick  and  so  clever.' 

'  But  if,  besides  being  so  quick  and  so  clev- 
er, he  was  good-humored  and  good-natured,' 
said  Marianne,  '  he  would  be  of  great  use  to  us; 
he  plaits  a  vast  deal  faster  than  Mary  does, 
and  Mary  plaits  faster  than  any  of  us.  Come 
let  us  try  him,  let  him  come  in  amongst  us.' 

'  No,  no,  no,'  cried  many  voices  ;  '  he  will 
quarrel  with  us ;  and  we  have  no  time  for  quar- 
relling. We  are  all  so  quiet  and  so  happy 
without  him  !  Let  him  work  by  himself,  as 
he  said  he  would.' 

Owen  went  on,  working  by  himself ;  he 
made  all  the  haste  that  he  possibly  could :  but 
Thursday  came,  and  his  work  was  not  nearly 
finished.  His  companions  passed  by  him  with 
their  finished  work  in  their  hands.  Each  as 
they  passed,  said,  '  What !  have  you  not  done 
yet,  Owen  T  and  then  they  walked  on  to  the 
table  where  their  dame  was  sitting,  ready  to 
pay  them  their  sixpences. 

She  measured  their  work,  and  examined  it; 


52 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


and  when  she  saw  that  it  was  well  done,  she 
gave  to  each  of  her  little  workmen  and  work- 
women the  sixpence  they  had  earned,  and 
she  said,  '  I  hope,  my  dears,  that  you  will 
be  happy  this  evening.' 

They  all  looked  joyful  ;  and,  as  they  held 
their  sixpences  in  their  hands,  they  said,  '  If 
we  had  not  helped  one  another,  we  should  not 
have  earned  this  money  ;  and  we  should  not 
be  able  to  go  to  the  cherry  orchard.' 

'  Poor  Owen  !'  whispered  Marianne  to  her 
companions,  '  look  how  melancholy  he  is  sit- 
sing  there  alone  at  his  work  ! — See,  his  hands 
tremble,  so  that  he  can  hardly  hold  the 
straws  ;  he  will  not  nearly  finish  his  work  in 
time  :  he  cannot  go  with  us.' 


THE    ORANGE    MAN.  53 

£  He  should  not  have  trampled  on  our  cher- 
ries ;  and  then  perhaps  we  might  have  help- 
ed him,'  said  Cymon. 

4  "Let  us  help  him  though  he  did  trample  on 
our  cherries,'  said  the  good-natured  Marianne 
— '  He  is  sorry  for  what  he  did,  and  he  will 
never  be  so  ill-humored  or  ill-natured  again. 
Come,  let  us  go  and  help  him.  If  we  all  help, 
we  shall  have  his  work  finished  in  time,  and 
then  we  shall  all  be  happy  together.' 

As  Marianne  spoke,  she  drew  Cymon  near 
to  the  corner  where  Owen  was  sitting  ;  and 
all  her  companions  followed. 

'  Before  we  offer  to  help  him,  let  us  try 
whether  he  is  now  inclined  to  be  good-hu- 
mored and  good-natured.' 

'  Yes,  yes,  let  us  try  that  first,'  said  his 
companions. 

'  Owen,  you  will  not  be  done  time  enough 
to  go  with  us,'  said  Cymon. 

'  No,  indeed,'  said  Owen,  '  I  shall  not  ; 
therefore  I  may  as  well  give  up  all  thoughts 
of  it.  It  is  my  own  fault,  I  know.' 

'  Well,  but  as  you  cannot  go  yourself,  you 
will  not  want  your  pretty  little  basket ;  will 
you  lend  it  to  us  to  hold  our  cherries  ?' 

'  Yes,  I  will  with  pleasure,'  cried  Owen, 
jumping  up  to  fetch  it. 

'  Now  he  is  good-natured,  I  am  sure,'  said 
Marianne. 

'  This  plaiting  of  yours  is  not  nearly  so 
well  done  as  ours,'  said  Cymon ;  '  look,  how 
uneven  it  is.' 


54  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  Yes,  it  is  rather  uneven,  indeed,'  replied 
Owen. 

Cymon  began  to  untwist  some  of  Owen's 
work  ;  arid  Owen  bore  this  trial  of  his  pa- 
tience with  good  temper.' 

'  O,  you  are  pulling  it  all  to  pieces,  Cy- 
mon !'  said  Marianne  ;  i  this  is  not  fair.' 

•  Yes,  it  is  fair,'  said  Cymon  ;  '  for  I  have 
undone  only  an  inch ;  and  I  will  do  as  many 
inches  for  Owen  as  he  pleases,  now  that  I  see 
he  is  good-humored.' 

Marianne  immediately  sat  down  to  work 
for  Owen  ;  and  Cymon  and  all  his  compan- 
ions followed  her  example.  It  was  now  two 
hours  before  the  time  when  the  cherry-or- 
chard was  to  be  opened  ;  and,  during  these 
two  hours,  they  went  on  so  expeditiously, 
that  they  completed  the  work. 

Owen  went  with  them  to  the  cherry-or- 
chard, where  they  spent  the  evening  all  to- 
gether very  happily.  As  he  was  sitting  under 
a  tree  with  his  companions,  eating  the  ripe 
cherries,  he  said  to  them, — '  Thank  you  all, 
for  helping  me  :  I  should  not  have  been  here 
now  eating  these  ripe  cherries,  if  you  had  not 
been  so  good-natured  to  me.  I  hope  I  shall 
never  be  cross  to  any  of  you  again :  whenev- 
er I  feel  inclined  to  be  cross,  I  will  think  ol 
your  good-nature  to  me,  and  of  THE  CHERRY- 
ORCHARD.' 


HARRY  AND  LUCY. 


PART  I. 

LITTLE  children,  who  know  the  sounds  of  all 
letters,  can  read  words,  and  can  understand 
what  is  told  in  this  book. 

Harry  was  brother  to  Lucy,  and  Lucy  was 
sister  to  Harry.  Harry  had  just  come  home 
to  his  father's  house  :  he  had  been  left  at  his 
uncle's,  when  he  was  an  infant,  and  had  al- 
ways lived  at  his  uncle's  house. 

Lucy  lay  in  a  little  bed  in  a  closet  near 
her  mother's  room  ;  and  Harry  lay  in  a  little 
bod  in  another  closet. 


Early  in  the  morning,  whilst  Lucy  was  in 
bed,  the  sun  shone  through  the  window  and 
awakened  her  ;  when  she  was  quite  awake, 
she  knew  it  was  morning,  because  it  was 
daylight ;  and  she  called  to  her  mother,  and 
said,  '  Mamma,  may  I  get  up  ?'  But  her 
mother  did  not  answer  her,  for  she  did  not 
hear  what  she  said,  because  she  was  asleep. 
When  Lucy  knew  that  her  mother  was  asleep, 
she  lay  still,  that  she  might  not  disturb  her, 


56  EARLY   LESSONS. 

until  she  heard  her  mother  stir  ;  and  then 
she  asked  her  again  if  she  might  get  up ;  and 
her  mother  said  she  might. 


So  Lucy  got  up,  and  put  on  her  stockings 
and  shoes,  and  finished  dressing  herself,  and 
then  went  to  her  mother,  and  asked  for  some 
breakfast.  But  her  mother  told  her,  that  she 
must  make  her  bed,  before  she  could  have  any 
breakfast.  Little  Lucy  began  to  make  her 
bed,  and  her  mother  went  into  another  closet 
to  awaken  Harry  ;  and  she  said,  Harry  !  get 
up  !  And  Harry  jumped  out  of  bed  in  an  in- 
stant, and  put  on  his  trousers,  and  his  jacket, 
and  his  shoes  ;  and  then  he  combed  his  hair, 
and  washed  his  hands  ;  and  whilst  he  was 
wiping  his  hands  his  mother  went  down  stairs. 

Little  Lucy,  hearing  her  brother  Harry 
walking  about  in  his  closet,  called  him,  and 
asked,  if  he  had  made  his  bed.  Harry  said 
he  had  not.  O  !  then,  says  Lucy,  mamma 
will  give  you  no  breakfast.  Yes,  says  Harry, 
she  will  :  I  never  made  my  bed  at  my  un- 
cle's, and  I  always  had  my  breakfast. 

As  they  were  talking,  he  heard  his  father 
call  him,  and  he  ran  down  stairs  to  the  par- 
lor, where  his  father  and  mother  were  at 
breakfast ;  and  her  mother  called  Lucy  down 
too,  and  said  to  her,  Well,  Lucy  !  have  you 
made  your  bed  neatly  ? 

Lucy.  Yes,  mother,  I  have  made  it  as  well 
as  I  could. 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  57 

Mother.  You  shall  have  some  breakfast  then. 

His  father  asked  Harry  if  he  had  made  his 
bed.  Harry  answered  that  he  did  not  know 
how  to  make  it.  I  will  show  you,  said  his 
mother  ;  and  taking  him  by  the  hand,  she 
led  him  up  stairs,  and  showed  him  how  to 
make  his  bed. 

When  Harry  came  down  to  his  father,  he 
said  that  he  did  not  know,  that  boys  or  men 
ever  made  beds  ;  for  at  his  uncle's,  nobody 
ever  made  beds  but  the  housemaid. 

His  father  told  him,  that,  in  some  countries, 
the  beds  are  made  by  men  ;  and  that  in 
ships,  which  sail  on  the  sea,  and  carry  men 
from  one  country  to  another,  the  beds  in  which 
the  sailors  sleep  are  always  made  by  men. 

Lucy's  mother  observed  that  she  had  break- 
fast, and  asked  her  why  she  had  not  eaten  it. 

Lucy  said  that  she  waited  for  her  brother. 
Her  mother  then  gave  Harry  a  basin  of  milk, 
and  a  large  piece  of  bread  ;  and  she  set  a  lit- 
tle table  for  him  and  his  sister,  under  a  shady 
tree,  that  was  opposite  to  the  open  window 
of  the  room  where  she  breakfasted. 

Lucy  was  a  good  little  girl,  and  had  al- 
ways minded  what  was  said  to  her,  and  had 
been  very  attentive  whenever  her  father  or  mo- 
ther had  taught  her  anything.  So  her  mother 
had  taught  her  to  read  and  to  work,  and  when 
she  was  six  years  old  she  could  employ  her- 
self without  being  troublesome  to  any  body  : 
she  could  work  for  herself,  and  for  her  brother, 
and  sometimes,  when  Lucy  behaved  very 


58  EARLY   LESSONS. 

well,  ner  mother  let  her  do  a  little  work  for 
her,  or  for  her  father  ;  arid  her  mother  had 
given  her  a  little  thimble,  to  put  upon  her 
ringer,  and  a  little  housewife,  to  keep  her  nee- 
dles and  thread  in,  and  a  little  pair  of  scissors 
to  cut  her  thread  with,  and  a  little  work-bag 
to  keep  her  work  in  ;  and  Lucy's  father  had 
given  her  a  little  book,  to  read  in,  whenever 
she  pleased,  and  she  could  read  in  it  by  her- 
self, and  understand  all  she  read,  and  learn 
every  thing  that  was  in  it. 


As  soon  as  Lucy  had  eaten  the  breakfast 
which  her  her  mother  had  given  her,  she  sat 
down  on  her  stool,  and  took  her  work  out  of 
her  work-bag  and  worked  some  time  ;  then 
her  mother  told  her,  that  she  had  worked  an 
hour,  and  that  she  did  not  choose  that  she 
should  work  any  longer  ;  so  Lucy  got  up  and 
brought  her  work  to  her  mother,  and  asked 
her,  if  it  was  done  as  it  ought  to  be  done. 

And  her  mother  said,  Lucy,  it  is  done  pret- 
ty well  for  a  little  girl  that  is  but  six  years 
old,  and  I  am  pleased  to  see  that  you  have 
tried  to  avoid  the  fault,  which  I  told  you  of 
yesterday  :  then  Lucy's  mother  kissed  her, 
and  said  to  her,  put  your  work  into  your 
work-bag,  and  put  your  work-bag  into  its 
place,  and  then  come  back  to  me, 


Lucy  did  as  she  was  desired   to   do  ;    and 
then  her  mother  asked  her,  if  she  would  rath- 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  59 

er  go  out  of  doors  and  walk,  or  stay  with 
her.  Lucy  liked  best  to  stay  with  her  mother, 
who  very  soon  afterwards  went  to  her  dairy. 

Lucy  followed  her,  and  took  a  great  deal 
of  care  not  to  be  troublesome,  for  she  loved  to 
be  with  her  mother  ;  but  she  observed  what- 
ever she  saw,  and  did  not  meddle  with 
any  thing.  She  saw  that  the  dairy  was 
very  clean  ;  the  floor  was  a  little  damp, 
which  made  her  think,  that  it  had  been 
washed  that  morning,  and  there  were  not 
any  cobwebs  nor  dust  upon  the  walls  ; 
and  she  perceived  that  the  room  smelt  very 
sweet  :  she  looked  about,  to  find  out  if  there 
were  any  flowers  that  could  make  that  pleas- 
ant smell,  but  she  could  not  see  any  thing, 
but  a  great  many  clean  empty  vessels  of  dif- 
ferent shapes,  and  a  great  many  round,  wide, 
and  shallow  pans  full  of  milk  :  she  went  near 
to  them,  and  thought  the  smell  came  from 
them. 

When  she  had  looked  at  a  good  many  of 
them,  she  thought  they  were  not  all  alike  ; 
the  milk  in  some  of  the  pans  was  a  little  yel- 
lowish, and  looked  thick,  like  the  cream  that 
she  saw  every  morning  at  her  mother's  break- 
fast ;  and  the  milk,  in  the  other  pans,  was  a 
little  blue,  and  looked  thin,  like  the  milk 
that  was  often  given  to  her  and  her  brother 
to  drink.  Whilst  Lucy  was  thinking  on  this, 
she  saw  one  of  her  mother's  maids  go  to  one 
of  the  pans,  that  had  the  yellowish  milk  in  it, 
and  the  maid  had  a  wooden  saucer  in  her 


60  EARLY    LESSONS. 

hand,  and  she  put  the  wooden  saucer  very  gen- 
tly into  the  pan  ;  she  did  not  put  it  down  to  the 
bottom  of  the  pan,  but  took  up  that  part  of  the 
milk,  which  was  at  the  top,  and  put  it  into  an- 
other vessel,  and  then  Lucy  saw  that  the 
milk,  that  was  left  in  the  pan,  was  not  at  all 
like  what  the  maid  had  taken  out,  but  was 
very  thin,  and  a  little  blue. 

When  Lucy's  mother  went  out  of  the  dai- 
ry, she  took  her  little  daughter  out  into  the 
fields  to  walk  with  her.  Soon  after  they  set 
out,  Lucy  said,  Mother,  when  I  was  in  your 
dairy  just  now,  I  saw  the  maid  take  some 
milk  out  of  a  milk  pan,  and  it  looked  like 
what  I  see  you  put  into  your  tea,  and  I  be- 
lieve it  is  called  cream  ;  but  she  left  some 
milk  in  the  pan,  that  was  not  at  all  like  cream, 
but  like  very  thin  milk  :  pray,  mother,  will 
you  tell  me,  why  all  that  was  in  the  pan  was 
not  cream  ?  Then  her  mother  said,  Yes,  Lu- 
cy, I  will  answer  any  questions,  you  like  to 
ask  me,  when  I  have  leisure,  because,  whenev- 
er I  talk  to  you,  you  mind  what  I  say,  and  re- 
member whatever  your  father  or  I  teach  you. 

I  believe  you  know,  that  the  kind  of  milk, 
which  I  give  you  very  often  for  your  break- 
fast and  supper,  is  taken  out  of  the  udders  of 
cows  :  did  you  never  see  the  maids,  with 
milk-pails  going  a  milking  ?  They  were  then 
going  to  take  the  milk  from  my  cows  ;  they 
call  that  milking  them,  and  it  is  done  twice  ev- 
ery day,  once  in  the  morning  and  once  in  tho 
evening.  When  they  have  gotten  milk  in  the 


HA11RY   AND    LUCY.  61 

pails,  they  carry  it  into  the  dairy,  and  put  it 
into  such  milk-pans  as  you  saw,  and  they  let 
the  milk-pans  stand  still,  in  the  same  place, 
for  several  hours,  that  the  milk  may  not  be 
shaken  ;  and  in  that  time  the  heaviest  part  of 
the  milk  falls  as  low  as  it  can,  towards  the 
bottom  of  the  pan,  and  the  lightest  part  of  the 
milk  remains  above  it  at  the  top  of  the  pan, 
and  that  thick  light  part  is  called  cream,  as 
you  thought  it  was.  When  the  milk  has 
stood  long  enough,  the  cream  is  taken  from 
the  other  part  of  the  milk,  and  doing  this,  is 
called  skimming  the  milk,  but  it  must  be  done 
very  carefully,  or  else  the  cream  and  milk 
will  all  be  mixed  together  again.  Lucy  told 
her  mother,  that,  when  she  was  in  the  dairy, 
she  had  walked  all  round  it,  and  that  she  saw 
a  great  deal  of  cream  ;  more,  she  thought, 
than  came  every  day  into  the  parlor  :  and  she 
wished  to  know,  what  other  use  it  was  for,  ex- 
cept to  mix  with  tea,  and  fruit,  or  sweetmeats. 
Lucy's  mother  was  going  to  answer  her,  but 
she  looked  towards  the  other  side  of  the  field, 
and  said,  Lucy,  I  think  I  see  some  pretty 
flowers  there,  will  you  run  and  gather  me  a 
nosegay,  before  I  talk  any  more  to  you  ?  Lu- 
cy said,  Yes,  mother  ;  and  ran  away  to  get 
what  her  mother  had  desired ;  when  she  came 
to  the  place,  where  the  flowers  were,  she  look- 
ed about  for  the  prettiest,  and  gathered  two 
or  three  of  them,  but,  when  she  had  them  in 
her  hand,  she  perceived,  they  had  not  any 
smell  ;  so  she  went  to  a  great  many  more, 


62  EARLY    LESSONS. 

and  at  last  she  found  some,  that  had  a  sweet 
smell  ;  but  they  were  not  pretty,  and  she  ga- 
thered some  of  them,  and  was  taking  them  to 
her  mother ;  but  as  she  passed  near  the  hedge, 
she  saw  some  honey-suckles  growing  in  it, 
and  she  remembered  that  she  had  smelt  honey- 
suckles that  were  very  sweet,  and  they  were 
pretty  too,  so  she  was  glad  that  she  had  found 
some,  for  she  thought  her  mother  would  like 
them  ;  but  when  she  came  close  to  the  hedge, 
she  saw  that  they  were  so  high  from  the 
ground  that  she  could  not  reach  them.  Lu^y 
did  not  like  to  go  away,  without  taking  some 
honey-suckles  to  her  mother,  so  she  walked 
slowly  by  the  side  of  the  hedge,  till  she  came 
to  a  place,  where  there  was  a  large  stone,  up- 
on which  she  climbed,  and  gathered  as  many 
honey-suckles  as  she  liked. 


Whilst  she  was  getting  down,  she  held  the 
flowers  fast,  for  fear  she  should  drop  them  into 
the  ditch,  and  she  felt  something  prick  her 
finger  very  sharply;  she  looked,  and  she  saw  a 
bee  drop  down  off  one  of  the  honey-suckles,  that 
she  had  squeezed  in  her  hand  ;  so  she  thought, 
that  she  had  hurt  the  bee,  and  that  the  bee 
had  stung  her,  to  make  her  let  him  go,  and 
that  it  was  the  bee,  that  she  had  felt  pricking 
her.  Lucy  was  afraid  that  she  had  hurt  the 
bee  very  much,  for  she  remembered,  that, 
when  she  opened  her  hands,  the  bee  did  not 
fly  away,  but  dropt  down  ;  so  she  looked  for 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  63 

it  on  the  ground,  and  she  soon  found  it  strug- 
gling in  some  water,  and  trying  with  its  little 
legs  and  wings  to  get  out,  but  it  was  not 
strong  enough.  Lucy  was  very  sorry  for  the 
bee  ;  but  she  was  afraid  to  touch  it,  lest  she 
should  hurt  it  again,  or  that  it  should  hurt 
her.  She  thought  for  a  little  while  what  she 
could  do,  and  then  she  got  a  large  stalk  of  a 
flower,  and  put  it  close  to  the  bee  :  as  soon 
as  ever  the  bee  felt  it,  he  clasped  his  legs 
round  it,  and  Lucy  raised  the  stalk  with  the 
bee  upon  it,  gently  from  the  wet  ground,  and 
laid  it  upon  a  large  flower  that  was  near  her. 
The  bee  was  sadly  covered  with  dirt,  but,  as 
soon  as  he  felt  that  he  was  standing  upon  his 
legs  again,  he  began  to  stretch  his  wings  and 
to  clean  himself,  and  to  buz  a  little  upon  the 
flower.  Lucy  was  glad  to  see  that  the  bee 
did  not  seem  to  be  very  much  hurt,  and  she 
took  up  her  nosegay  and  ran  as  fast  as  she 
could  towards  her  mother  ;  but  the  finger, 
that  the  bee  had  stung,  began  to  be  very  sore. 


She  met  her  mother  coming  to  her,  who 
wondered  what  had  made  her  stay  so  long  ; 
and  when  Lucy  had  told  her  what  had  hap- 
pened, she  said,  I  thank  you,  my  dear,  for 
getting  me  so  sweet  a  nosegay,  and  I  am  very 
sorry  you  have  been  hurt  in  doing  it ;  I  am 
sure  you  did  not  intend  to  hurt  the  poor  little 
bee,  and  will  walk  home  now,  and  I  will  put 
some  hartshorn  to  your  finger,  which  will  les- 


64  EARLY    LESSONS. 

sen  the  pain  you  feel.  Lucy  said,  Indeed, 
mother,  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  the  bee,  for  I 
did  not  know  that  it  was  in  my  hand  ;  but, 
when  I  am  going  to  gather  flowers  another 
time,  I  will  look  to  see  if  there  are  any  bees 
upon  them. 

When  Lucy's  mother  got  home,  some  harts- 
horn was  put  to  Lucy's  finger,  and  soon  after 
it  grew  easier,  and  Lucy's  mother  said  to  her, 
Now  I  am  going  to  be  busy,  and  if  you  like 
it  you  may  go  into  the  garden,  till  dressing 
time  :  Lucy  thanked  her,  and  said,  she  did 
like  it,  but  she  hoped,  that  some  time,  when 
she  was  not  busy,  her  mother  would  answer 
what  she  had  asked  about  cream. 


After  breakfast,  Harry's  father  took  him 
out  a  walking  ;  and  they  came  to  a  field, 
where  several  men  were  at  work  ;  some  were 
digging  clay  out  of  a  pit,  in  the  ground  ; 
some  were  wetting  what  was  dug  out,  with 
water,  and  others  were  making  the  clay  into 
a  great  number  of  pieces,  of  the  same  size 
and  shape.  Harry  asked  his  father,  what  the 
men  were  about,  and  he  told  him,  that  they 
were  making  bricks  for  building  houses. 
Yes,  says  Harry,  but  I  can  run  my  finger 
into  these ;  they  are  quite  soft  and  brown, 
and  the  bricks  of  your  house  are  red  and 
hard  ;  and  they  don't  stick  together  as  the 
bricks  of  your  house  do  ;  saying  this,  he 
pushed  down  a  whole  stack  of  bricks.  The 


HARRY    AND    LUCY. 


65 


man  who  was  making  them  called  out,  to  de- 
sire he  would  pay  for  those  he  had  spoiled  : 
little  Harry  had  no  money,  and  did  not  know 
what  to  do  ;  but  said  to  the  man,  indeed,  sir, 
I  did  not  intend  to  do  any  harm  :  the  man 
answered,  whether  you  intended  it  or  not,  you 
have  spoiled  the  bricks,  and  must  pay  me  for 
them  ;  I  am  a  poor  man,  and  buy  all  the 
bread  that  I  have,  with  the  money  which  I 
get  for  these  bricks,  and  I  shall  have  less 
bread,  if  I  have  a  smaller  number  of  bricks 
to  sell. 

Poor  Harry  was  very  sorry  for  what  he  had 
6 


66  EARLY    LESSONS. 

he  had  done,  and  at  last  thought  of  asking 
his  father  to  pay  for  them  :  but  his  father 
said,  I  have  not  spoiled  them,  and  therefore 
it  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  pay  for  them. 
The  man,  seeing  that  Harry  had  not  intended 
to  do  mischief,  told  him  if  he  would  promise 
to  make  amends  at  some  future  time,  for 
the  mischief  which  he  had  done,  he  would 
he  satisfied.  Harry  promised  he  would. 
Now  you  find,  Harry,  said  his  father,  that 
you  must  not  meddle  with  what  does  not  be- 
long to  you. 


As  they  walked  on  farther,  they  came  to  a 
blacksmith's  shop,  and,  as  it  began  to  rain, 
Harry's  father  stood  under  the  shed,  before 
the  door  ;  and  a  farmer  came  riding  to  the 
shop,  and  asked  the  blacksmith  to  put  a  shoe 
upon  his  horse,  which  he  said  had  lost  one  a 
little  way  oif,  and  which  would  be  lamed,  if 
he  went  over  any  stony  road  without  a  shoe. 
Sir,  says  the  blacksmith,  I  cannot  shoe  your 
horse,  as  I  have  not  iron  enough  ;  I  have  sent 
for  some  to  the  next  town,  and  the  person 
whom  I  sent,  cannot  be  back  before  evening. 

Perhaps,  said  the  farmer,  you  have  an  old 
shoe,  that  may  be  made  to  fit  my  horse. 

The  smith  had  no  iron,  except  a  bit  of  small 
nail  rod  which  was  fit  only  for  making  nails ; 
but  he  said,  that,  if  the  farmer  looked  on  the 
road,  perhaps  he  might  find  the  shoe,  which 
had  fallen  from  hi  s  horse.  Little  Harry,  hear- 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  67 

ing  what  had  passed,  told  his  father,  that  he 
thought  he  could  find  a  shoe  for  the  farmer's 
horse.  His  father  asked  him,  where  he 
thought  he  could  find  a  shoe  ? 


He  said  that  he  had  observed  something  as 
they  walked  along  the  road,  lying  in  the  dirt, 
which  he  thought  was  like  a  horse-shoe.  His 
father  begged  that  the  farmer  would  wait  a 
little  while  ;  and  then  he  walked  back  with 
Harry  on  the  road  by  which  they  came  to  the 
blacksmith's;  and  Harry  looked  very  carefully, 
and  after  some  time  he  found  the  horse-shoe, 
and  brought  it  back  to  the  blacksmith's  shop; 
but  it  was  not  fit  to  be  put  again  upon  the 
horse's  foot,  as  it  had  been  bent  by  a  wagon 
wheel,  which  had  gone  over  it. 

The  farmer  thanked  Harry,  and  the  black- 
smith said  that  he  wished  every  little  boy 
was  as  attentive  and  as  useful.  He  now  be- 
gan to  blow  his  large  bellows,  which  made  a 
roaring  noise,  and  the  wind  came  out  of  the 
pipe  of  the  bellows  among  the  coals  upon  the 
hearth,  and  the  coals  became  red,  and  by  de- 
grees they  became  brighter  and  brighter,  as 
the  fire  became  hotter  ;  and  the  smith  put 
the  old  iron  horse-shoe  into  the  fire,  and  after 
some  time  it  became  red  and  hot  like  the 
coals  ;  and  when  the  smith  thought  the  iron 
was  hot  enough,  he  took  it  out  of  the  fire  with 
a  pair  of  tongs,  and  put  it  upon  the  anvil,  and 
struck  it  with  a  heavy  hammer.  Harry  saw 


68  EARLY    LESSONS. 

that  the  iron  became  soft  by  being  made  red 
hot  ;  %and  he  saw  that  the  smith  could  ham- 
mer it  into  whatever  shape  he  pleased. 


When  the  smith  had  made  the  shoe  of  a 
proper  size  and  shape,  he  took  a  piece  of  nail- 
rod,  and  heated  it  red-hot  in  the  fire,  by  the 
help  of  the  large  bellows,  which  he  blew  with 
his  right  hand,  whilst  he  held  the  tongs  in  his 
left. 

Harry  was  going  to  examine  the  horse-shoe 
that  the  smith  had  just  made,  but  he  would  not 
meddle  with  it  without  leave,  as  he  recollect- 
ed what  had  happened  in  the  brick-field. 

Whilst  he  was  looking  at  the  shoe,  another 
little  boy  came  into  the  shop,  and,  after  loun- 
ging about  for  some  time,  he  stooped  down 
and  took  up  the  horse-shoe  in  his  hand  ;  but 
he  suddenly  let  it  drop,  and  roared  out  vio- 
lently, and  said  that  he  was  burned.  Whilst 
he  was  crying,  and  blowing  his  fingers,  and 
squeezing  and  pinching  them,  to  lessen  the 
pain,  the  smith  turned  him  out  of  the  shop, 
and  told  him,  that,  if  he  had  not  meddled 
with  what  did  not  belong  to  him,  he  would 
not  have  been  hurt.  The  little  boy  went  a- 
way  whimpering,  and  muttering,  that  he  did 
not  know  that  black  iron  would  burn  him. 


The  smith  now  took  the  nail  rod  out  of  the 
are,  and  it  was  hotter  than    the   other   iron 


HARRY    AND    LUUY.  09 

and  it  was  of  a  glowing  white  color  ;  and 
when  the  smith  struck  it  upon  the  anvil,  a 
number  of  bright  sparks  were  struck  off  the 
iron,  on  every  side,  about  the  shop  :  they 
appeared  very  beautiful. 

The  smith  then  made  some  nails,  and  began 
to  fasten  the  shoe  on  the  horse's  foot  with 
nails.  Harry,  who  had  never  before  seen  a 
horse  shod,  was  much  surprised  that  the 
horse  did  not  seem  to  be  hurt  by  the  nails 
which  were  driven  into  his  foot ;  for  the 
horse  did  not  draw  away  his  foot ;  nor  show 
any  signs  of  feeling  pain.  Harry's  father  ask- 
ed him  if  he  had  ever  had  his  nails  cut  ? 

Harry  said  he  had. 

Father.     Did  cutting  your  nails  hurt  you  ? 

Harry.     No. 

Father.  A  horse's  hoof  is  of  horn,  like  your 
nails,  and  that  part  of  it,  that  has  no  flesh  fas- 
tened to  it,  does  not  feel  pain  :  the  outside  of 
the  hoof  may  be  cut,  and  may  have  nails 
driven  into  it,  without  giving  any  pain  to 
the  horse. 

The  blacksmith,  who  was  paring  the  horse's 
foot,  gave  a  piece  of  the  horn,  that  he  had  cut 
off,  to  Harry,  who  perceived  that  it  was  nei- 
ther so  hard  as  bone,  nor  so  soft  as  flesh  ; 
and  the  blacksmith  told  him  that  the  hoof  of 
a  horse  grows  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
nails  of  a  man,  and  requires,  like  them,  to  be 
sometimes  pared. 

And  when  the  blacksmith  had  finished 
shoeing  the  horse,  he  showed  Harry  the  hooi 


TO  EARLY    LESSONS. 

of  a  dead  horse,  that  was  separate  from  the 
foot,  and  Harry  saw  how  thick  it  was  in  that 
part,  where  the  nails  were  to  be  driven. 


Harry's  father  now  told  him,  that  it  was 
time  to  go  home,  as  they  had  two  miles  to 
walk,  arid  it  wanted  but  an  hour  to  dinner- 
time. Harry  asked  his  father,  how  much 
time  it  would  take  up  to  walk  two  miles,  if 
they  walked  as  fast  as  they  commonly  did, 
and  his  father  showed  him  his  watch,  and 
told  him  he  might  see,  when  they  got  home, 
how  long  they  had  been  returning.  Harry 
saw  that  it  was  four  minutes  after  two  o'clock, 
and,  when  they  got  home,  it  was  forty-eight 
minutes  after  two  ;  so  Harry  counted,  and 
found  out  how  many  minutes  had  passed 
from  the  time  they  left  the  blacksmith's  until 
they  got  home. 


When  Harry  came  into  the  garden,  he  ran 
to  his  sister  Lucy,  to  tell  her  all  that  had 
happened  to  him,  and  she  left  what  she  was 
about,  and  ran  to  meet  him.  She  thought  he 
had  been  away  a  great  while,  and  was  very 
glad  to  see  him  :  but  just  then  the  bell  rang, 
and  they  knew  they  must  go  in  directly  to 
make  themselves  clean  before  dinner. 

When  dinner  was  over,  Harry  and  Lucy 
were  let  go  into  the  garden,  and  Lucy  then 
begged  her  brother,  to  tell  her  all  that  had 


HARRY    AN7D    LUCY.  71 

happened,  whilst  he  was  out  in  the  morning. 
Harry  then  told  her,  how  he  had  spoiled  the 
bricks,  and  what  the  brickmaker  had  said  to 
him  ;  and  he  told  her,  that  he  had  promised 
to  make  amends  for  the  mischief  which  he 
had  done. 

He  told  her,  that  to  make  bricks  men  dug 
clay,  and  beat  it  with  a  spade,  and  mixed  it 
with  water,  to  make  it  soft  and  sticky,  and 
that  then  they  made  it  into  the  shape  of 
bricks,  and  left  it  to  dry  ;  and,  when  it  was 
hard  enough  to  be  carried  without  breaking, 
it  was  put  into  large  heaps  and  burned,  so  as 
to  become  of  a  reddish  yellow  color,  and  al- 
most as  hard  as  a  stone. 


Then,  brother,  says  Lucy,  if  you  will  make 
some  bricks,  we  can  build  a  house  in  the  little 
garden  mother  has  lent  me.  So  they  went  to 
the  little  garden,  and  Harry  dug  some  earth 
with  a  little  spade,  which  his  father  had  giv- 
en him,  and  endeavored  to  make  it  stick  to- 
gether with  some  water,  but  he  could  not 
make  it  stick,  like  the  clay,  that  he  saw 
the  brickmakers  use  ;  and  he  ran  in,  and 
asked  his  father  why  he  could  not  make  it 
stick  with  water.  And  his  father  asked  him, 
whether  it  was  the  same  kind  of  earth  that 
he  saw  in  the  brick-field.  And  Harry  said, 
that  he  did  not  know  what  his  father  meant 
by  the  same  kind  of  earth  ;  he  saw  a  man 
dig  earth,  and  dig  it  in  the  same  manner. 


72  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Father.  But  is  the  earth  in  the  garden  of 
the  same  colour  as  that  in  the  brick-field  ? 

Harry.  No  :  that  in  the  garden  is  almost 
black  ;  that  in  the  field  is  yellow. 

Father.  Then  they  are  not  the  same  kinds 
of  earth. 

Harry.    I  thought  all  earth  was  alike. 

Father.  You  find  that  it  is  not ;  for  you 
see,  that  all  earth  cannot  be  made  to  stick  to- 
gether with  water. 


Harry  went  back  to  the  garden,  and,  after 
having  looked  in  a  great  many  places  for  yel- 
low earth,  at  last  he  saw  some  in  the  bottom 
of  a  hole,  that  had  been  dug  some  time  be- 
fore ;  and  he  ran  back,  and  asked  his  father's 
leave  to  dig  some  of  it ;  and,  after  he  had  got- 
ten leave,  he  dug  some  of  the  yellow  clay, 
and  found  that,  when  it  was  mixed  with  wa- 
ter, it  became  very  sticky  and  tough,  and 
that,  the  more  it  was  mixed,  and  squeezed, 
and  beaten  with  the  spade,  the  tougher  it  be- 
came. He  now  endeavored  to  make  it  into 
the  shape  of  bricks  ;  but  he  found  that  he 
could  not  do  it  :  and  Lucy  asked  him  wheth- 
er the  brickmakers  were  as  long  making  a 
brick  as  he  was.  'No,'  said  he;  'they  have  a 
little  box  made  in  the  shape  of  a  brick,  with- 
out top  or  bottom,  into  which  they  put  the 
clay  upon  a  table,  and  with  a  straight  stick, 
like  a  ruler,  they  scrape  the  clay  even  with 
the  top  of  the  box,  and  then  lifting  up  the 


HAR1.       AND    LUCY.  73 

box,  they  find  the  clay  in  the  shape  of  a  brick 
upon  the  table.'  '  Harry,  says  Lucy,  there  is 
a  carpenter  in  the  house,  at  work  for  my 
mother ;  I  will  go  and  ask  her,  to  get  a  box 
made  for  you  :  do  you  know  by  what  name 
such  a  box  is  called,  brother  V  '  It  is  called  a 
mould.' 


Lucy's  mother  let  the  carpenter  make  a 
brickmaker's  mould  for  Harry  ;  but  the  man 
could  not  begin  until  he  knew  what  size  it 
should  be  :  how  many  inches  long,  how  ma- 
ny inches  thick  it  should  be.  Harry  did  not 
know  what  the  carpenter  meant  :  but  Lucy, 
having  always  lived  with  her  mother,  who 
had  been  very  kind  to  her,  and  who  had 
taught  her  a  great  many  things,  knew  what 
the  carpenter  meant  :  and,  as  she  wished  to 
have  bricks  of  the  size  of  those,  with  which 
her  father's  house  was  built,  she  went  and 
measured  some  of  the  bricks  in  the  wall,  and 
finding  that  a  great  number  of  them  were  of 
the  same  length,  she  said  to  her  brother,  that 
she  supposed  they  were  all  alike.  Harry  told 
her,  that,  as  the  brickmakers  used  but  one 
mould,  whilst  he  saw  them  at  work,  he  sup- 
posed that  they  made  a  great  number  of  bricks 
of  the  same  size,  and  that  the  wall  would  not 
look  so  regular  as  it  did,  if  the  bricks  were  of 
different  sizes. 

Lucy  therefore  thought,  if  she  could  meas- 
7 


74  EARLY    LEC     ;NS. 

ure  one  brick,  it  would  be  sufficient.  She  ea- 
sily found  the  length  and  the  depth  of  a  brick 
in  the  wall,  but  she  did  not  at  first  know  how 
to  find  the  breadth,  as  the  bricks  lying  upon 
each  other,  prevented  her  from  seeing  their 
breadth  ;  but  Harry  showed  her  at  the  cor- 
ner of  the  wall  that  the  breadth  of  the  bricks 
could  be  seen  ;  she  measured  carefully,  and 
found  the  length  to  be  nine  inches,  the  breadth 
four  inches,  and  the  depth  two  inches  and  a 
quarter.  So  the  carpenter,  when  he  knew 
the  dimensions  of  the  mould,  made  it,  and 
Harry  placed  a  flat  stone  upon  two  large 
stones,  to  serve  for  a  table,  and  he  and  Lucy 
made  several  bricks  :  but  they  were  a  long 
time  before  they  could  make  them  tolerably 
smooth,  as  they  stuck  to  the  mould,  unless 
the  mould  was  wetted.  They  were  very  hap- 
py making  their  bricks,  but  they  did  not  know 
how  they  should  burn  them,  so  as  to  make 
them  hard,  but  they  were  determined  to  try. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  before 
they  had  finished  ten  bricks,  and  they  were 
called  in,  and  their  mother  gave  them  some 
bread  and  milk  for  their  supper,  and  sent 
them  to  bed. 

The  next  morning  Harry  and  Lucy  got  up 
as  they  did  before  ;  and  their  father  and 
mother  gave  them  leave  to  go  and  look  at  the 
bricks  they  had  made  ;  and  Harry  felt  that 
they  were  a  little  harder  than  they  were  the 
night  before ;  and  Lucy  thought  that  burning 
them  would  make  them  softer  ;  for  she  had 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  75 

seen  butter,  wax,  pomatum,  and  sealing-wax, 
all  made  soft  by  heat,  but  she  did  not  remem- 
ber seeing  anything  made  hard  by  heat.  But 
Harry  put  her  in  mind  of  the  crust  of  pies, 
which  is  soft  and  tough,  like  clay,  before  it  is 
baked,  and  which  grov/s  hard  and  brittle  by 
the  heat  of  the  oven  :  and  he  told  her  that 
the  iron,  of  which  the  blacksmith  made  the 
horse's  shoe,  when  he  blew  the  bellows,  was 
hard  and  black,  before  it  was  put  into  the 
fire,  but  that  it  became  red,  when  it  was  suf- 
ficiently heated,  and  so  soft,  that  the  smith 
could  hammer  it  into  what  shape  he 
pleased. 

Lucy  believed  what  her  brother  said,  but 
was  resolved  to  beg,  that  her  mother  would 
take  her  to  see  red-hot  iron,  and  a  brick-kiln, 
which  Harry  told  her  was  the  name  of  the 
place  in  which  bricks  were  burnt. 


Whilst  they  were  eating  the  breakfast, 
which  their  mother  gave  them,  Harry  asked 
his  sister,  what  she  had  been  doing  the  day 
before,  when  he  was  out  with  his  father ;  and 
Lucy  told  him  all  she  had  seen  in  the  dairy, 
and  when  she  was  out  walking.  When  they 
had  done  breakfast,  his  mother  lent  Harry 
one  of  Mrs.  Barbauld's  little  books  for  chil- 
dren, and  let  him  read  the  story  of  the  poor 
blind  fiddler,  with  which  Harry  was  very 
much  pleased  ;  and  then  she  let  Lucy  read 
the  following  story. 


76 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


A  man,  riding  near  the  town  of  Reading, 
saw  a  little  chimney-sweeper  lying  in  the 
dirt,  who  seemed  to  be  in  great  pain,  and  he 
asked  him,  what  was  the  matter  ;  and  the 
chimney-sweeper  said,  that  he  had  fallen 
down,  and  broken  his  arm,  and  hurt  his  leg, 
so  that  he  was  not  able  to  walk  ;  and  the 
man,  who  was  very  good-natured,  got  off  his 
horse,  and  put  the  chimney-sweeper  upon  it, 
and  walked  beside  the  horse,  and  held  the 
boy  on  till  he  came  to  Reading  ;  and  when 
he  came  to  Reading,  he  put  the  boy  under 
the  care  of  an  old  woman,  whom  he  knew 


HARRY    AND   LUCY.  77 

there,  and  he  paid  a  surgeon  for  setting  his 
arm,  and  gave  the  woman  money,  for  the 
trouble  which  she  would  have  in  taking  care 
of  the  boy,  and  the  expense  which  she  would 
be  at  in  feeding  him,  till  he  should  be  able  to 
work  again,  to  earn  money  for  himself ;  and 
then  the  man  continued  his  journey  till  he 
got  to  his  own  home,  which  was  at  a  great 
distance.  The  boy  soon  got  well,  and  earn- 
ed his  bread  by  sweeping  chimneys  at 
Reading. 


Several  years  after  that  time,  this  same  good- 
natured  man  was  riding  through  Reading,  and 
his  horse  took  fright  upon  a  bridge,  and  jumped 
with  the  man  upon  his  back  into  the  water  ; 
the  man  could  not  swim,  and  the  people  who 
were  on  the  bridge  and  saw  him  tumble  in, 
were  afraid  to  jump  into  the  water,  to  pull 
him  out  :  but,  just  as  he  was  ready  to  sink, 
a  chimney-sweeper,  who  was  going  by,  saw 
him,  and,  without  stopping  a  moment,  threw 
himself  into  the  river,  and  seizing  hold  of 
him,  dragged  him  out  of  the  water,  and  sa- 
ved him  from  being  drowned  :  and  when 
the  man  was  safe  upon  the  bank,  and  was 
going  to  thank  the  man  who  pulled  him  out 
of  the  water,  he  recollected  that  it  was  the 
same  chimney-sweeper,  whom  he  had  taken 
care  of  several  years  before,  and  who  had 
hazarded  his  own  life,  to  save  that  of  his 
benefactor. 


78 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


When  Lucy  had  done  reading,  her  mother 
asked  Harry  which  he  liked  best,  the  man 
who  had  taken  care  of  the  chimney-sweeper, 
whom  he  did  not  know, — or  the  chimney- 
sweeper, who  had  saved  the  life  of  the  man 
whom  he  knew,  and  who  had  taken  care  of 
him  when  his  arm  was  broken. 

Harry  said  he  liked  the  chimney-sweeper 
best,  because  he  was  grateful,  and  because 
he  ventured  his  own  life,  to  save  that  of  the 
man  who  had  been  kind  to  him  :  but  Lucy 
said,  she  liked  the  other  man  best,  because 
he  was  humane,  and  took  care  of  a  poor 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  79 

little  boy,  who  had  nobody  to  take  care  of 
him,  and  from  whom  he  could  never  expect 
to  receive  any  benefit. 

This  is  the  history  of  Harry  and  Lucy  for 
two  days.  The  next  part  will  be  the  history 
of  another  day,  when  Harry  and  Lucy  were 
a  year  older. 


[The  words  in  the  following  Glossary  are  used  in 
the  several  parts  of  HARRY  AND  LUCY,  and  little  children 
will  do  well  to  learn  their  meaning  carefully.] 


GLOSSARY  : 

OR, 
DICTIONARY     OF     WORDS. 


THE  author  does  not  pretend,  that  this  glos- 
sary contains  full  and  accurate  definitions  , 
ne  is  well  aware  of  the  difficulty  of  such  an 
undertaking  ;  and  indeed  is  fully  satisfied, 
that  nothing  is  properly  a  definition,  which 
does  not  contain  a  perfect  enumeration  of  all 
the  particulars,  which  relate  to  the  subject  in 
question.  What  he  aims  at,  is  to  give  a  pop- 
ular meaning  of  the  words  which  he  has  se- 
lected, and  at  the  same  time,  to  point  out  the 
necessity  of  accuracy,  and  of  referring  to  the 
original  root,  from  which  words  are  derived  ; 
but  above  all,  to  excite  in  children  an  appe- 
tite for  knowledge. 

All  objects  of  the  senses,  about  which  they 
inquire,  should  be  submitted  to  the  examina- 
tion of  children  ;  their  obvious  qualities, 
names  and  parts,  should  thus  be  rendered  fa- 
miliar to  them.  This  glossary  should  first  be 
read  to  children,  a  little  at  a  time  ;  and  it 
should  be  made  a  subject  of  conversation  with 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  81 

them  ;  afterwards  they  will  read  it  with  more 
pleasure.  Young  children  do  not  read  to 
gratify  their  curiosity  ;  their  chief  pleasure 
from  books  arises,  at  first,  from  success,  in 
having  conquered  the  difficulty  of  reading. 


Abstain.  To  abstain,  not  to  do  a  thing  that 
one  is  inclined  to  do. 

Accept.    To  receive  with  pleasure. 

Agility.  Activity  ;  the  being  able  to  move 
quickly  and  with  ease  ;  to  run,  and  jump, 
and  dance  well. 

Air-pump.  A  machine  for  trying  experi- 
ments upon  air.  An  air-pump  will  be  de- 
scribed to  little  people  in  another  place. 

Associate.  To  join,  to  connect.  Things 
that  happen  at  a  time  when  we  feel  pleasure 
or  pain  are  remembered  together  at  another 
time.  We  remember  the  faces,  and  dress, 
and  voice  of  those  from  whom  we  have  receiv- 
ed pleasure ;  and  we  remember  what  we  saw 
or  heard,  at  any  place,  that  we  liked  much, 
or  that  we  disliked  ;  and  we  remember  things 
merely  because  they  happened  on  the  same 
day,  or  on  the  same  week.  Some  people  re- 
member things  best  by  thinking  of  the  places, 
and  some  by  thinking  of  the  time  when  things 
happened  ;  others,  by  the  pleasure  or  pain 
they  felt  at  the  time  when  things  happened. 

Attention.  To  be  attentive  is  to  think  of 
what  we  are  about. 


82  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Attracted.  To  be  attracted  by  anything  is 
to  be  drawn  towards  it,  as  a  piece  of  iron  is 
drawn  or  moved  towards  a  magnet,  which  is 
placed  near  it  ;  or  as  a  light  piece  of  paper 
is  made  to  fly  towards  a  piece  of  sealing- 
wax,  or  a  bit  of  amber,  or  a  tube  of  glass, 
when  they  are  rubbed  by  the  hand,  or  cer- 
tain other  substances. 

My  little  boy,  or  girl,  when  you  read  this, 
ask  the  person  who  teaches  you,  to  show  you 
a  magnet,  or  to  let  you  try  these  experiments. 

Barometer.  Little  girls  and  boys  may  see 
barometers  in  many  places,  but  they  cannot 
understand  them,  without  taking  a  great  deal 
of  pains. 

Behavior.  The  manner  in  which  people  act. 

Belong.  What  is  a  person's  own  belongs 
to  him. 

Blacksmith.  A  man  who  makes  things  of 
iron. 

Blow.  rpo  blow  is  to  make  air  move,  and 
when  air  moves  it  is  called  wind. 

Bottom.    The  lowest  part  of  a  thing. 

Breaches.  Gaps  or  holes  made  in  anything. 

Brittle.    Easily  broken. 

Button-mould.  Some  buttons  are  made  of 
metal  ;  others  are  made  of  cloth,  or  thread 
wound  round  pieces  of  wood,  or  horn,  or  bone, 
or  ivory.  These  pieces  are  called  moulds. 

Moulds  are  sometimes  solid,  and  sometimes 
hollow.  Silver  spoons  are  formed  with  a 
hammer  upon  a  solid  iron  mould.  Orna- 
ments of  plaster  of  Paris,  or  alabaster,  and  of 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  83 

wax,  and  of  clay,  and  other  materials  are 
cast  or  worked  in  hollow  moulds.  Metal 
and  plaster  statues  are  cast  between  a  hollow 
and  a  solid  mould.  Do  you  understand  that, 
my  little  pupil  1 

Bubbles  are  thin  hollow  globes,  filled  with 
air.  Bubbles,  blown  from  a  tobacco-pipe 
dipped  in  soap-suds,  show  beautiful  colors, 
when  the  sun  shines  on  them.  Such  bubbles 
could  not  be  made  with  water  only,  but  the 
addition  of  soap  makes  a  clammy,  or  sticky 
liquor,  that  can  be  spread  out  by  blowing  air 
into  it.  The  air  in  soap-bubbles  swells  by 
heat,  arid  bursts  its  covering. 

Buzzed.  To  buz  ;  to  make  a  noise  like 
that  which  a  fly  makes  with  its  wings. 

By  degrees.  Not  all  at  once.  The  word 
degree  properly  means  a  step  ;  by  degrees, 
step  after  step. 

Care.  To  take  care  of  a  person  is  to  hin- 
der him  from  being  hurt. 

Clasped.  To  clasp  is  to  hold  fast  round 
anything. 

Clean.  What  is  not  dusty,  sticky,  stained, 
greasy,  &c.  ;  and  what  has  not  or  does  not 
look  as  if  it  had  a  disagreeable  smell. 

Cobwebs.  Nets  made  by  spiders,  to  catch  flies. 

Collected.    To  collect  is  to  gather  together. 

Conduct.  People,  by  thinking  whether 
they  are  going  to  do  right  or  wrong,  can  judge 
and  determine  how  they  ought  to  act ;  their 
judgment  conducts  or  leads  them.  Judging 


84  EARLY    LESSONS. 

wisely,  and  acting  accordingly,  is  good  con- 
duct, the  contrary  is  bad  conduct. 

Consented.    Agreed  to  what  was  asked. 

Considerable.  A  quantity  worth  consider- 
ing or  attending  to. 

Conversation.  Answering  what  people  ask  ; 
listening  to  what  others  say  ;  hearing  from 
others  what  they  know,  and  telling  them 
what  we  know. 

Compared.  To  compare  is  to  consider  or 
think  of  things  ;  to  find  out  in  what  they 
are  like  one  another,  and  in  what  they  are 
unlike. 

Correct.    To  correct  is  to  alter  for  the  better. 

Counted.  Looked  or  felt  to  know  how 
many  there  were. 

Cylinder.  What  is  round  like  a  pencil,  or 
a  rolling-stone,  or  a  candle.  A  cylinder  may 
be  hollow,  as  that  part  of  the  socket  of  the 
candlestick  into  which  the  candle  is  put. 

Deal.  A  quantity  ;  also  the  name  of  pine 
boards  in  England. 

Determined.  To  determine  is  to  think  of, 
and  resolve  to  do  a  thing. 

Dimensions.  The  sizes  of  the  different 
parts  of  any  thing. 

Directly,    Soon. 

Disappointment.  When  any  thing  which 
we  expect  does  not  happen,  we  feel  disap- 
pointed. Several  words  in  English  beg^n  with 
dis  ;  this  syllable  dis  sometimes  means,  dif- 
ferent from  ;  as  in  dis-appointment  dis-incli- 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  85 

nation,  dis-joint,  dis-prove  ;  and  it  sometimes 
means  different  ways,  as  dis-sever,  dis-play. 

Distinctly.  In  a  distinct  manner.  When 
things  are  separate  from  one  another,  we  see 
them,  and  can  consider  them  one  by  one. 

Diverted.  Turned  aside.  To  divert  also 
means  to  amuse,  because  amusement  turns 
aside  our  thoughts  from  applying  too  closely 
to  any  thing.  Di,  in  divert,  and  several  other 
words,  has  the  same  meaning  as  dis. 

Dry.    What  is  not  wet. 

Earned.  To  earn  is  to  get  any  thing  for 
working  for  other  people. 

Employ.  To  employ  oneself  is  to  do  some- 
thing. 

Endeavor.    To  try  to  do  a  thing. 

Entertaining:  To  entertain  is  the  same  as 
to  amuse  ;  it  is  to  give  pleasure  to  the  mind, 
by  engaging  the  attention  to  something  that 
is  agreeable. 

Entirely.  Entire  is  what  is  not  broken  or 
divided  ;  what  is  whole  :  any  thing  is  said 
to  be  done  entirely,  when  every  part  of  it  is 
finished. 

My  little  pupils  will  observe,  that  to  ex- 
plain one  word,  it  is  necessary  to  make  use 
of  others,  that  are  supposed  to  be  understood 
by  those,  whom  we  are  teaching.  Sometimes 
the  words  which  we  use  are  not  understood. 
You  must  then  ask  the  meaning  of  them 
from  your  father  or  mother. 

Exactly.   With  great  care. 

Examining.     To  examine   is   to   consider 


86  EARLY   LESSONS. 

attentively  ;  to  look  at  every  side  and  every 
part  of  any  thing  ;  to  consider  the  truth  of 
facts,  and  to  judge  of  reasons  for  or  against 
any  opinion. 

Explain.  To  explain  is  to  make  a  person 
understand  what  he  reads,  or  what  is  said, 
or  what  is  shown  to  him. 

Experiment.  A  trial  (see  Johnson's  Dic- 
tionary.) The  word  trial  sometimes  means 
only  a  trial  in  a  court  of  justice. 

Evaporate.  To  evaporate  is  to  turn  some 
fluid  into  steam.  Steam,  when  it  is  very  hot, 
is  not  visible. 

Fear.  What  we  feel  when  we  expect  some- 
thing will  hurt  us. 

Feeling.  Nobody  can  be  told  what  feeling 
is  :  every  one  knows  their  own  feelings,  but 
they  cannot  tell  exactly  what  others  feel. 

Fill.  To  put  as  much  into  a  thing,  as  it  can 
hold. 

Floating.  To  float  means  not  to  sink  in  a 
fluid. 

Fluid.  Our  little  pupils  must  ask  the  per- 
sons who  teach  them,  to  show  them  different 
fluids,  and  to  let  them  touch  them.  Things 
can  sink  or  float  in  fluids ;  they  do  not  sink 
perceptibly  into  solids,  unless  they  are  very 
sharp  or  heavy.  Fluids  fill  hollow  vessels  of 
all  shapes  ;  and  they  can  be  poured  from  one 
vessel  into  another.  Solid,  besides  meaning 
what  is  not  fluid,  means  what  is  firm,  or 
steady,  or  strong  :  we  say  a  solid  founda- 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  87 

tion,  solid  sense,  solid  timber  ;  that  which  is 
not  hollow. 

Forge.  A  place  where  smiths  heat  iron, 
and  form  it  into  different  shapes. 

Form.    Shape,  figure. 

Former.  The  first  of  two  things  which 
have  been  mentioned. 

For  instance.  Here  the  writer  of  the  book 
wants  to  explain  one  thing,  by  mentioning 
something  else  that  is  like  it.  For  example 
has  the  same  meaning  as  for  Instance. 

Full  as  much.  Here  the  word  Full  means 
Quite — quite  as  much. 

Globes.  There  are  two  sorts  of  globes,  ter- 
restrial and  celestial  :  terrestrial  globes  rep- 
resent the  shape  of  the  earth,  and  the  situa- 
tion of  different  countries  :  celestial  globes 
show  the  situation  of  the  stars  in  the  sky. 

Habit.  When  we  have  done  any  thing  a 
great  many  times,  it  becomes  easy  to  do  it ; 
there  are  some  things  which,  from  habit,  be- 
come so  easy  to  be  done,  that  we  do  not  seem 
to  think  of  them  when  we  are  doing  them. 
Some  habits  are  good,  and  some  bad  ;  for 
instance,  the  habit  of  attending  to  what  we 
are  about,  is  good  ;  tricks,  on  the  contrary, 
are  bad  habits. 

Hacks.  Brickmakers  build  their  bricks,  be- 
fore they  are  burned,  in  long  rows,  and  cover 
them  with  turf  or  straw,  to  protect  them  from 
the  rain,  and  place  them  in  such  a  situation, 
as  will  expose  them  to  the  wind  and  sun,  til] 


OO  EARLY    LESSONS. 

they  are  sufficiently  dry  for  the  Kiln.  These 
rows  of  bricks  are  called  Hacks. 

Happy.  People  know  when  they  feel  hap- 
py or  unhappy.  Happiness  depends  upon 
feelings,  and  feelings  cannot  be  exactly  de- 
scribed by  words. 

High.  What  is  at  a  distance  from  the 
ground.  Things  are  said  to  be  high,  when 
compared  with  things  that  are  lower  than 
themselves,  tho'  they  are  low,  when  compar- 
ed with  other  things.  A  boy  of  five  years  old 
is  high,  or  tall,  when  compared  with  a  child 
of  a  year  old  :  and  the  same  boy  is  low  when 
compared  with  a  boy  of  fifteen.  A  table  is 
high  when  compared  with  a  stool,  but  low 
when  compared  with  a  chest  of  drawers. 

Honest.  A  person  is  honest,  who  tells 
truth,  and  who  does  not  take  or  keep  what 
belongs  to  other  people. 

Impression.  When  any  thing  hard  is  press- 
ed upon  something  that  is  not  elastic,  or 
springy,  but  which  is  much  softer  than  itself, 
it  sinks  into  it,  and  leaves  marks  upon  it,  as  a 
seal  does  upon  bees-wax,  or  upon  sealing-wax 
softened  by  heat.  The  marks  thus  made  are 
called  impressions,  because  they  are  impres- 
sed upon  what  receives  them.  Whatever 
makes  us  attend,  leaves  a  remembrance  in 
the  mind,  which  is  called  an  impression,  be- 
cause this  remembrance  is  something  like 
the  effect  made  by  one  body  upon  another. 

Issued.    To  issue  is  to  so  out  of. 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  89 

Joined.  Put  close  together  ;  made  to  stick 
together. 

Kept.   What  is  not  thrown  away. 

Kiln.  A  kind  of  oven,  or  furnace,  in  which 
lime,  and  bricks,  and  potter's  ware  are  burned. 
There  are  several  different  kinds  of  kilns. 

Lamed.  Made  not  able  to  move  without 
pain  or  difficulty. 

Latter.  The  last  of  two  things,  as  the  for- 
mer is  the  first  of  two  things. 

Leave.  To  have  leave  is  to  be  let  to  do 
any  thing. 

Lever.  A  bar  of  wood  or  metal,  used  to 
lift  heavy  things.  When  little  boys  and  girls 
grow  older,  the  different  forms  and  uses  of 
levers  will  be  explained  to  them. 

Market.  A  place  where  people  meet,  on 
particular  days,  to  buy  and  sell  ;  both  the 
place  and  the  day  are  called  the  market.  Peo- 
ple say,  '  To-morrow  is  the  market,'  meaning 
the  market-day  ;  or,  '  This  is  the  market,' 
meaning  the  market-place.  A  Fair  is  a  very 
large  market,  that  is  held  on  particular  days 
in  the  year.  This  is  applicable  only  to  England. 

Measured.  To  measure  is  to  find  out  the 
size  of  any  thing. 

Mellow.    Soft  from  being  ripe. 

Melted.  When  any  thing  solid  is  made  fluid 
by  heat,  it  is  said  to  be  melted. 

Microscope.  My  little  friends  must  grow  ol- 
der before  they  can  understand  a  microscope , 
but  they  may  perhaps  be  let  to  look  at  one, 
8  " 


90  EARLY    LESSONS. 

and  see  how  large  the  parts  of  plants  appear, 
when  seen  through  the  glass  of  a  microscope. 

Minded.  To  mind  is  to  think  of  a  thing, 
to  turn  one's  attention,  one's  mind  to  a  thing. 

Mistake.  To  mistake  is,  to  take  one  thing 
for  another  ;  to  mistake  the  road  ;  to  mistake 
what  is  said  ;  to  mistake  the  meaning  of  any 
thing.  Mis,  in  mistake,  means  wrong  or  ill. 

Mixed.  To  mix  is  to  put  things  together, 
so  as  to  make  them  touch  in  as  many  of  their 
parts  as  we  can. 

Moderate.  Without  violence.  Moderate  pro- 
perly means  what  is  done  by  a  measure.  A 
moderate  quantity :  what  is  usually  measured 
or  given  for  any  particular  purpose.  A  pint  of 
milk  is  a  moderate  quantity  for  one  person,  but 
a  pail  full  would  be  an  immoderate  quantity. 

Neatly.  Neat  is  what  is  clean,  smooth,  and 
in  order. 

Nosegay.    A  bundle  of  flowers. 

Observed.  To  observe  is  to  mind  what 
we  see,  and  hear,  and  touch. 

Opportunity.  Fit  place,  or  fit  time.  (See 
Dictionary.) 

Orrery.  A  machine  for  showing  the  mo- 
tions of  the  moon  and  planets. 

Pay.    To  give  money  for  any  thing. 

Pence.  Two  half-pence  make  a  penny  j 
pence  also  means  more  pennies  than  one. 

Perceived.  To  perceive  is  to  observe  some 
particular  thing. 

Print.  To  print  means  properly  to  make 
an  impression.  The  print  of  a  man's  foot  in 


HARRY    AND  LUCY.  91 

the  sand  means  the  mark  or  impression  of  a 
man's  foot  in  the  sand  ;  the  print  of  a  seal 
means  its  impression.  Prints,  a  kind  of  pic- 
tures, are  impressions  upon  paper,  &c.  of  lines, 
or  figures  carved  upon  copper  :  these  lines 
are  filled  with  ink  ;  and,  when  the  copper  is 
pressed  by  a  machine  for  that  purpose  on  pa- 
per, on  silk  or  vellum,  the  ink  quits  the  lines 
in  the  copper,  and  sticks  to  the  paper,  &c. 
The  beautiful  prints  in  Bewick's  history  of 
birds  and  quadrupeds  are  carved  on  wood.  In 
general,  prints  are  engraved  on  copper, and  are 
therefore  called  engravings  or  copper-plates. 

Paddle.  A  small  tool,  with  which  weeds 
are  pulled  up  ;  it  also  means  a  kind  of  oar, 
with  which  boats  are  moved. 

Pebbles.  Small  stones  that  have  been  roun- 
ded by  being  rubbed  together  by  the  motion 
of  a  river  or  the  sea. 

Peculiar.  What  belongs  to  a  particular 
thing,  person,  place,  or  nation. 

People.  A  number  of  persons.  The  peo- 
ple means  the  inhabitants  of  a  country. 

Planted  himself.  To  plant  is  to  put  a  veg- 
etable into  the  earth  to  make  it  grow ;  it  some- 
times means  to  drive  one  thing  firmly  into 
another.  To  plant  oneself  in  a  place  means, 
to  place  oneself  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  show 
that  we  mean  to  stay  there  some  time. 

Pleasure.  Pleasure  is  felt  :  it  cannot  be 
described  by  words. 

Present.  At  present ;  what  is  doing  or  pass- 
ing now.  Every  thing  that  we  think  of,  or 


92  EARLY    LESSONS. 

that  we  perceive  by  any  of  our  senses,  must 
be  done  or  must  pass  at  some  time.  Time 
may  be  either  present,  past,  or  to  come.  What 
is  to  come  is  also  called  future.  When  you 
learn  grammar,  my  little  friends,  you  will 
read  of  the  present  tense,  the  past  tense,  and 
the  future  tense.  Tense  means  Time. 

Prevent.  To  hinder  a  thing  from  being  done. 
To  prevent  properly  means  to  come  before. 

Proceed.    To  go  forward. 

Process.  Method  of  doing  a  thing.  It  prop- 
erly means  the  going  forwards  of  any  thing. 
Pro,  at  the  beginning  of  a  word,  means  for, 
before,  in  the  place  of,  forward. 

Particles.   Small  parts. 

Property.  What  belongs  to  a  person  or  to  a 
thing.  '  My  father's. horse,'  means  the  horse 
that  belongs  to  my  father,  or  that  is  my  fa- 
ther's property.  There  is  another  meaning  of 
the  word  property  :  we  .say,  '  It  is  a  property 
of  lemons  to  have  a  sour  taste.'  Acidity,  or 
sourness,  is  a  property  of  lemons,  and  of  vin- 
egar, and  of  sorrel,  and  of  crab  apples.  '  To 
live  longer  than  other  animals  without  wa- 
ter, is  a  property  of  the  camel.' 

Punctuality.  Exactness  in  doing  what  we 
have  intended  to  do,  or  what  we  have  said 
we  would  do. 

Punished.  To  punisli  is  to  be  made  to  feel 
pain  for  doing  what  is  wrong. 

Purposely.    Designedly  ;  intending  to  do  it. 

Promise.    To  promise,  is  to  tell   a   person 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  93 

that  we  will  do  something  at  a  future  time 
which  they  wish  should  be  done.  People 
may  say,  that  they  intend  to  do  a  thing,  with- 
out promising.  When  people  promise,  they 
speak  as  if  they  expected  that  the  persons 
who  hear  them  should  understand  that  they 
firmly  resolved  to  do  the  thing  which  they 
say,  and  that  others  might  afterwards,  if  they 
failed  to  keep  their  word,  think  that  they 
were  not  to  be  trusted  or  depended  upon.  If 
we  always  speak  truth,  people  must  believe 
us  :  if  we  do  not  speak  truth  always,  even 
those  who  love  us  best  cannot  believe  us. 

Quantity.   Size  or  number. 

Quarter  of  the  sky.  Quarter  properly 
means  fourth  part  of  any  thing  :  but  it  some- 
times means  not  exactly  the  fourth  part,  but 
some  parts  separate  from  other  parts,  as, 
'  The  roads  are  bad  in  that  quarter  of  the 
country  :'  — '  Go  to  that  quarter  of  the  gar- 
den :'  —  '  He  lives  in  a  different  quarter  of 
the  country.' 

Readily.    Easily  ;    quickly. 

Recollect.  To  recollect  is,  to  collect  again 
from  one's  memory.  Re,  at  the  beginning  of 
words,  sometimes  means  backwards,  and 
sometimes  means  again, — as,  to  re-peat,  to 
re-turn. 

Repair.    To  mend  ;  also  to  go  to  a  place. 

Revolution.  The  going  round  of  any  thing 
to  the  place  from  which  it  set  out. 

Round.  What  has  no  corners,  or  angles, 
is  usually  called  round,  though  it  may  not 


94 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


be  perfectly  round.  A  globe  is  a  figure  round 
in  all  directions. 

Set.  To  set  means  to  place  ;  setting  of  the 
sun  means  its  disappearing  in  the  evening. 
You  cannot  yet  understand  what  is  meant 
by  the  motion  of  the  earth,  which  occasions 
sun-rise  and  sun-set. 

Set  on  fire.  To  put  fire  to  any  thing,  so  as 
to  make  it  burn. 

Shadow.  My  little  friends,  —  hold  a  book, 
or  any  thing  else,  between  the  candle  arid  a 
wall,  or  between  the  sun  and  a  wall,  and 
you  will  see,  that  what  is  so  held  pre- 
vents the  light  of  the  candle  or  of  the  sun 
from  going  to  or  reaching  the  wall  :  there- 
fore that  part  of  the  wall,  from  which  the 
light  of  the  sun  or  candle  is  kept,  is  dark.  If 
any  hole  is  in  the  thing  which  you  hold 
in  your  hand,  the  light  will  pass  through  that 
hole  to  the  wall,  and  the  wall  will  be  light  in 
that  place.  On  the  contrary,  if  a  thread,  or 
even  a  hair,  hang  at  the  edge  of  what  you 
hold,  that  hair  will  hinder  the  light  from  com- 
ing to  the  wall,  and  a  part  of  the  wall,  in  the 
shape  of  that  hair  or  thread,  will  be  dark. 

The  shadow  you  perceive  is  not  a  thing  ;  it 
is  only  the  want  of  light  on  some  place. 

Shed.  A  roof,  that  is  held  up  by  posts,or  rails, 
instead  of  walls  ;  or  what  appears  like  a  roof. 

Shoes.  What  are  put  upon  feet,  to  hinder 
them  from  being  hurt  by  the  ground. 

Shop.  A  place  where  people  work,  or  where 
things  are  sold. 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  95 

Soft.  What  you  can  press  your  finger 
into  ;  what  is  not  hard. 

Solid.    Look  for  the  word  fluid. 

Soot.  Smoke  collected  in  small  pieces ; 
condensed  steam,  or  vapor  of  oil,  grease,  wax, 
pitch,  tar,  or  turpentine,  resin  or  rosin,  and 
of  various  other  substances.  You  have  learn- 

the  meaning  of  the  word  condensed. 

Stamps.  Tools  of  wood,  or  metal,  carved 
with  different  figures.  These  stamps  are 
pressed  upon  different  substances,  to  make 
impressions  upon  them. 

Stalk.  That  part  of  a  plant  upon  which 
flowers  or  fruits  grow. 

Steam.    Vapor,  caused  by  heat. 

Stem.  The  trunk  of  a  plant,  that  which 
rises  immediately  from  the  root. 

Stick.  A  piece  of  wood  ;  a  small  long 
piece  of  any  thing,  as  a  stick  of  sealing-wax, 
a  stick  of  brimstone. 

Sticky.  What  will  not  fall  easily  from 
your  hands,  when  you  attempt  to  let  it  go. 

Still.  In  this  place  still  means  continual. 
Sometimes  it  means  to  be  at  rest. 

Store-room.  A  place  where  things  are  laid 
by  to  be  kept  safe.  Things  laid  by  for 
future  use  are  called  stores. 

Stoutly.    Strongly  ;    with  courage. 

Straight.  What  is  not  bent ;  what  is  e- 
ven,  like  a  ruler. 

Subject.  What  a  person  is  talking,  61 
thinking  or  writing  about. 


96  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Sufficiently.    Enough. 

Supposing.  To  suppose  is  to  imagine  that 
a  thing  has  happened,  or  will  happen,  though 
perhaps  it  has  not,  or  may  not  happen  ;  as, 
Suppose  the  house  were  to  tumble  down,  it 
would  break  the  furniture  to  pieces.  Sup- 
pose that  we  were  to  have  plum-cake  at  tea, 
would  you  give  some  of  your  share  to  your 

sister  ? Now,  I  hope,  my  young  friends, 

that  this  last  supposition  will  soon  be  true. 

Stretched.  Pulled  or  drawn  to  a  larger 
size  than  what  it  usually  is. 

Take  notice.  To  observe  ;  to  pay  atten- 
tion to  any  thing. 

Tallow.  The  fat  of  animals.  There  is  a 
tree  in  America,  which  produces  a  substance 
like  tallow. 

Taught.  To  teach  is  to  tell  people  how  to 
do  what  they  do  not  know  how  to  do. 

Thermometer.  An  instrument  for  showing 
the  heat  of  the  air,  and  of  other  bodies.  The 
thermometer,  barometer,  orrery,  and  air-pump, 
will  entertain  young  people  very  much,  when 
they  have  knowledge  sufficient  to  enable 
them  to  understand  their  uses,  and  the 
manner  in  which  they  are  made. 

Thunder-storm.  A  storm  of  thunder  :  a 
storm  generally  means  violent  wind  ;  it  also 
means  snow,  hail,  and  thunder. 

Trust.  To  trust  people  is  to  believe,  and 
depend  upon  their  truth  and  honesty. 

Truth.    To  tell  truth  is,  to  tell   what   we 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  97 

know  about  any  thing  without  adding  to  it, 
and  without  concealing  or  hiding  any  thing. 

Turf.  That  part  of  the  ground  that  is  cov- 
ered with  grass.  Turf,  in  some  places,  means 
a  kind  of  earth,  mixt  with  the  roots  and  leaves 
of  decayed  vegetables,  which  is  used  for  firing. 

Udder.  A  bag  under  the  belly  of  a  cow, 
into  which  the  cow's  milk  comes. 

Understand.  To  know  the  meaning  of 
any  thing. 

Useful.  What  is  of  advantage  ;  what  con- 
tributes to  our  comfort,  or  convenience,  or 
pleasure. 

Valuable.  What  people  wisn  to  keep,  or 
obtain  ;  what  they  like,  or  love,  or  what 
can  be  sold  advantageously. 

War.  People  fight  with  one  another  when 
they  think  themselves  injured,  or  when  they 
are  angry.  When  the  people  of  one  country 
fight  against  the  people  of  another  country,  it 
is  called  war. 

Wistfully.  As  if  he  wished  for  something. 
Wistfully  is  a  word  that  is  not  often  used. 


END  OF    PART    I. 


HARRY  AND  LUCY. 

PABi  II. 


100 


HARRY  AND  LUCY. 

PART  II. 


AFTER  the  summer  was  past,  and  after  the 
autumn  and  winter  were  past,  another 
spring  came. 

Harry  and  Lucy  were  now  each  of  them  a 
year  older. 

And  during  the  year  that  had  passed,  they 
were  become  taller  and  stronger,  and  had 
learned  a  great  many  things  that  they  did 
not  know  before. 

They  had  learned  to  read  fluently  ;  and 
they  were  therefore  able  to  entertain  them- 
selves a  little,  during  the  winter  evenings, 
with  reading  short  stories  in  books,  which 
their  mother  gave  them ;  and  they  had  learn- 
ed a  little  arithmetic,  and  could  cast  up  sums 
in  addition,  and  could  subtract. 

And  they  had  each  of  them  a  little  garden. 
Harry  dug  the  ground  when  it  was  necessa- 
ry, and  Lucy  pulled  up  weeds,  and  helped 
to  wheel  them  away  in  her  little  wheelbar- 
row ;  and  assisted  in  sowing  seeds  of  differ- 
ent sorts,  and  in  planting  the  roots  of  flowers. 

In  the  summer,  she  and  Harry  carried  wa- 


HARRY    AND    LUCY. 


101 


ter  to  water  the  plants  and  flowers, which  they 
had  set  and  sown  in  the  spring.  And  they 
had  not  only  planted  flowers,  and  sown  small 
salad,  but  Harry  had  also  a  crop  of  peas,  and 
a  crop  of  potatoes,  in  his  garden  :  for  his  father 
had  seen  that  he  was  industrious,  and  for  that 
reason  he  gave  him  a  piece  of  good  ground  to 
be  added  to  his  garden  ;  and,  as  it  had  been 
grass-ground  for  some  time,  it  was  so  hard 
that  Harry  was  not  able  to  dig  it.  But  his 
father  had  it  dug  roughly  for  him,  and  he  had 
a  cartload  of  manure  laid  upon  it.  Harry  had 
observed  very  attentively  how  his  father's  la- 


102  EARLY   LESSONS. 

borers  had  set  potatoes  ;  and  in  the  beginning 
of  the  month  of  March  he  dug  his  ground 
over  again,  and  marked  it  out  into  ridges, 
with  stakes  and  a  line,  and  spread  the  manure 
upon  the  ridges,  leaving  sufficient  space  be- 
tween the  ridges  for  the  furrows.  He  then 
cut  some  potatoes,  which  his  father  had  given 
him,  into  small  pieces,  to  plant  in  the  ground 
for  sets.  He  took  care  to  cut  them,  so  that 
each  piece  should  have  an  eye  in  it ;  that  is 
to  say,  that  each  piece  should  have  one  of 
those  little  black  spots  in  it,  which  contain 
the  root  of  the  potato  ;  for,  after  the  piece  of 
potato  has  been  some  time  in  the  ground, 
it  rots  away,  and  the  root  unfolds,  and  long 
fibres  spread  into  the  earth. 

He  scattered  these  pieces  upon  the  manure, at 
eight  or  ten  inches  from  each  other  ;  and  then 
he  dug  earth  out  of  the  furrows,  that  lay  be- 
tween the  ridges,  and  covered  the  bits  of  pota- 
toes and  the  manure  with  them,  laying  earth 
over  them  both  to  the  depth  of  three  or  four 
inches.  When  he  had  made  any  mistake,  or 
had  not  done  the  work  well,  his  father  assist- 
ed him,  and  showed  him  how  to  do  it  better. 

The  rain  in  the  following  months,  and  the 
heat  of  the  sun  in  the  beginning  of  summer, 
had  contributed  to  the  growth  of  Harry's 
crop,  and  in  the  middle  of  July  he  had  some 
fine  young  potatoes  fit  to  eat. 

About  this  time  of  the  year  the  weather  is 
generally  very  hot ;  and  one  day  as  Harry 
and  his  sister  were  s;  tting  under  the  shady 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  103 

tree,  which  was  mentioned  in  the  former  chap- 
ter, picking  some  cowslips  for  their  mother, 
Harry  observed  that  the  shadow  of  the  tree 
reached  almost  round  the  stem,  and  he  had  seen 
in  the  morning  when  he  was  at  breakfast,  that 
the  shadow  of  the  tree  fell  only  on  one  side 
of  it.  He  asked  his  father,  who  was  passing  by 
the  reason  of  this,  and  his  father  took  him  to 
the  door  of  the  house,  and  desired  him  to  look 
where  the  sun  was  ; — and  he  saw  that  it  was 
opposite  the  door,  and  very  high  in  the  sky. 
'  Take  notice,  Harry,  where  you  see  the  sun 
now,  and  observe  where  you  see  it  this  even- 
ing, when  the  sun  is  setting.' 

Harry  said  he  knew  where  the  sun  set  — 
that  he  could  not  see  it  from  the  hall-door  ; 
but  that  he  could  see  it  from  that  end  of  the 
house,  which  was  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
hall-door,  as  you  go  out. 

Father.  Did  you  ever  observe  where  it 
rises  ? 

Harry.  Yes  ;  it  rose  this  morning  at  the 
other  end  of  the  house. 

Father.  It  did  so. — Now  do  you  know 
where  are  the  South,  and  the  North,  and  the 
East,  and  the  West  ? 

Harry.  No  ;  but  I  believe  the  side  of  the 
sky  where  the  sun  rises  is  called  the  East  1 

Father.  It  is  so  ;  and  the  side  where  it 
sets  is  called  the  West.  Now  you  may  al- 
ways know  the  South  and  the  North,  wherev- 
er you  are,  if  you  know  where  the  sun  either 
rises  or  sets.  If  you  know  where  it  rises, 


104  EAULY    LESSONS. 

stand  with  your  left  hand  towards  that  part 
of  the  sky,  and  then  the  part  of  the  sky  be- 
fore your  face  will  he  the  South,  and  that  part 
of  the  sky  behind  your  back  will  be  the  North. 

In  the  same  manner,  if  you  know  where 
the  sun  sets,  turn  your  right  hand  towards 
that  place,  and  the  part  of  the  sky  opposite 
to  you  will  be  the  South.  But,  Harry,  you 
must  remember  that  there  are  only  two  days 
in  the  year,  when  the  sun  sets  exactly  in  the 
West,  and  rises  exactly  in  the  East. 

Harry.    What  days  are  those,  father  1 

Father.  It  would  be  of  no  use  to  you  now  to 
know  the  names  of  those  days  ;  but,  when 
one  of  them  comes,  I  will  let  you  know  it. 
On  that  day  the  sun  rises  exactly  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  sets  exactly  at 
six  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

Father,  said  Harry,  I  have  observed  several 
times,  that  my  shadow  in  the  morning  and  in 
the  evening  is  very  long ;  but  in  the  middle  of 
the  day  I  can  scarcely  see  my  shadow. 

Father.  You  must  think  about  it  yourself, 
Harry  ;  for,  if  I  tell  you  every  thing  that  you 
want  to  know,  without  your  taking  the  trou- 
ble to  think,  you  will  not  have  the  habit  of 
thinking  for  yourself;  and  without  being 
able  to  think  for  yourself,  you  will  never 
have  good  sense. 


The  bricks,  which  Harry  and   Lucy  had 
made  the  year  before,  had   all  been  melted 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  105 

away  (as  the  workmen  say)  by  the  rain,  or 
broken,  because  they  had  not  been  burnt ; 
but  Harry  had  dug  some  tough  yellow  clay, 
of  a  proper  sort,  in  the  month  of  November, 
before  the  usual  frosts  of  the  winter  had  begun ; 
and  Harry  mixed  it  well  with  his  spade,  and 
Lucy  picked  out  the  little  pebbles  with  a 
small  paddle,  and  the  frost  made  the  clay 
mellow,  as  the  workmen  call  it.  And  in  the 
spring  Harry  made  nearly  six  hundred  bricks, 
and  built  them  into  hacks,  and  covered  them 
with  turf,  which  his  father  had  let  him  pare 
off  the  surface  of  the  ground.  And  Harry's 
father,  who  had  been  much  pleased  with  his 
good  behavior  and  industry,  came  to  the  tree 
where  he  was  at  work,  and  asked  him  if  he 
would  like  to  go  to  the  brick-field,  to  see  how 
bricks  were  burnt.  Lucy  wished  much  to  go 
with  them,  and  she  ran  and  asked  her  mother 
to  let  her  go  ;  her  mother  very  cheerfully 
consented,  and  said  she  would  go  along  with 
her. 


Whilst  Lucy  and  her  mother  were  getting 
ready  to  go,  Harry  ran  to  his  garden,  and  dug 
some  of  his  fine  young  potatoes,  and  put  them 
into  a  basket  which  he  had  of  his  own,  and 
returned  to  the  house  ;  and  his  father  asked 
him  what  he  intended  to  do  with  them. 

Sir,  says  Harry,  last  year,  when  I  had  spoilt 
the  poor  man's  bricks,  I  promised,  that  I 
would  make  him  amends,  and  I  determined, 


106 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


when  I  set  my  potatoes,  to  let  him  have  the 
first  of  them  that  were  fit  to  he  dug,  as  I  was 
told  that  early  potatoes  were  more  valuable, 
than  those  that  came  in  later. 

Father.  But  you  will  not  be  able  to  carry 
such  a  heavy  load  so  far. 

I  will  try,  said  Harry. 

He  was  able  to  proceed  but  a  little  way 
with  his  load  without  resting. 

What  could  he  do  1 

His  father  was  willing  to  assist  him,  as  he 
had  shown  honesty  and  truth  in  keeping  his 
promise,  and  good  sense  in  the  means,  which 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  107 

lie  had  taken  to  make  the  brickmaker  amends 
for  the  injury  which  he  had  done  him.  He 
asked  a  farmer,  whom  he  knew,  and  who 
was  going  by  with  a  cart,  to  take  the  basket 
into  his  cart,  and  to  leave  it  in  the  brick-field 
which  was  at  the  road-side. 


By  the  time  they  had  reached  the  brick- 
field, to  which  they  were  going,  and  to  which 
there  was  a  pleasant  walk  through  the  fields, 
the  farmer,  who  went  by  the  road,  had  got- 
ten with  his  cart  to  the  same  place. 

Harry  thanked  him,  took  up  his  basket, 
and  marched  stoutly  into  the  place  where  the 
brickmaker  was  at  work. 

The  man  knew  him  again,  and  was  much 
pleased  with  Harry's  punctuality.  He  took 
the  potatoes  out  of  the  basket,  and  said  that 
they  were  worth  full  as  much  as  the  bricks, 
that  had  been  spoilt. 

Harry's  father  asked  the  man,  to  show  him 
how  he  burned  his  bricks,  to  make  them  hard  ; 
and  the  man  said,  he  was  just  going  to  set 
fire  to  a  kiln  of  bricks,  and  that  he  might  see 
how  it  was  done. 

The  kiln  was  made  of  the  bricks,  that  were 
to  be  burned  :  these  bricks  were  built  up  one 
upon  another,  and  one  beside  the  other,  not 
quite  close,  but  so  as  to  leave  a  little  room  on 
every  side  of  each  brick  ;  and,  in  the  middle 
of  the  kiln,  near  the  bottom,  there  were  large 
holes  filled  with  furze  bushes. 


108 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


The  whole  kiln  was  as  large  as  a  large 
room  ;  and  the  man  went  to  his  house  for  a 
few  lighted  coals,  and  he  put  them  under  the 
furze,  which  took  fire  and  blazed,  and  the 
smoke  came  through  the  openings,  that  were 
left  letween  the  bricks,  and  the  heat  of 
the  fire  came  through  them  also,  and  heat- 
ed the  bricks ;  and  the  man  told  Har- 
ry's father,  that  he  should  supply  the  kiln 
with  furze  and  keep  the  fire  strong  for  six 
days  and  six  nights,  and  that  then  the  bricks 
would  be  sufficiently  burned. 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  109 

Harry  now  said,  that  he  was  afraid,  that 
he  should  not  be  able  to  build  a  kiln  for  his 
bricks  ;  for  he  was  grown  wise  enough  to 
know,  that  it  required  time  to  learn  to  do 
things,  which  we  have  riot  been  used  to  do. 
And  he  asked  the  brickmaker,  whether  he 
thought  he  could  build  his  bricks  so  as  to  be 
able  to  burn  them.  And  the  man  told  him, 
that  he  believed  he  could  not ;  but  he  said, 
that  on  some  holiday  he  would  go  to  the 
place  where  Harry's  bricks  were,  and  would 
show  him  how  to  build  a  nice  little  kiln,  if 
Harry's  father  would  give  him  leave. 


Harry's  father  accepted  this  good-natured 
offer ;  and  Harry  plainly  perceived,  that  good 
conduct  makes  friends,  and  that  a  poor  brick- 
maker  may  be  of  use  even  to  persons,  who 
are  not  obliged  to  work  for  their  bread. 

Whilst  they  were  talking,  Lucy  was  look- 
ing about,  and  examining  every  thing  in  the 
brick-field  ;  and  she  observed,  that,  at  the  far- 
thest part  of  the  field,  some  white  linen  was 
stretched  upon  the  grass  to  dry  ;  and  she  saw 
several  bits  of  black  dirt  lying  upon  the  linen. 
They  did  not  stick  to  the  linen,  but  were 
blown  about  by  the  wind,  as  they  were  very 
light. 

Lucy  picked  up  some  of  these  black  things ; 
and  when  she  showed  them  to  her  mother, 
her  mother  told  her,  that  they  were  bits  of 


11.0  EARLY    LESSONS. 

soot,  which  had  been  carried  by  the  w.nd 
from  the  brick-kiln. 

But,  mother,  said  Lucy,  I  don't  see  any 
chimney  belonging  to  the  brick-kiln  ;  and 
soot,  I  believe,  is  always  found  in  chimneys. 

Mother.  No,  my  dear,  soot  is  smoke  cool- 
ed ;  and  wherever  there  is  smoke,  there  is 
soot.  A  great  quantity  of  thick  smoke  rises 
from  a  brick-kiln,  or,  to  speak  more  properly, 
a  great  quantity  of  smoke  is  carried  upwards 
by  the  hot  air  that  rises  from  a  brick-kiln, 
and,  when  this  smoke  cools,  parts  of  it  stick 
together,  and  make  what  we  call  soot,  which 
falls  slowly  to  the  ground.  This  is  some  of 
it,  that  has  fallen  upon  the  white  linen  ;  and 
you  see  it  because  it  is  black,  and  the  linen, 
upon  which  it  has  fallen,  is  white. 

Lucy.    Why  does  it  fall  slowly  1 

Mother.  Because  it  is  light ;  if  it  were 
heavier,  it  would  fall  faster. 

Lucy.  What  do  you  mean  by  light  and 
heavy  1 

Mother.  You  cannot  yet  understand  all 
that  I  mean  by  those  words  ;  but,  if  you  take 
two  things  which  are  nearly  of  the  same  size 
in  your  hands,  and  if  one  of  them  presses  the 
hand,  in  which  it  is  held,  downward,  more 
than  the  other  does,  that  may  be  called 
heavy,  and  the  other  may  be  called  light. 
You  must  observe,  Lucy,  that  they  can  be 
called  heavy  or  light  only  as  compared  to- 
gether or  weighed  in  your  hands  ;  as,  for  in- 
stance, if  you  take  a  large  wafer  in  one  hand. 


HARRY  AND  LUCY.  Ill 

and  a  wooden  button-mould  of  the  same  size 
in  the  other,  the  button-mould  wculd  be  rea- 
dily perceived  to  be  the  heaviest ;  you  would 
therefore  say,  that  the  button-mould  is  heavy, 
and  the  wafer  is  light. 

But  if  you  were  to  take  the  button-mould 
again  in  one  hand,  and  take  a  half-dollar  in 
the  other,  you  would  call  the  half-dollar  hea- 
vy, and  the  button-mould  light.  And  if  you 
were  to  lay  down  the  button-mould,  and  were 
to  take  a  dollar  into  your  hand  instead  of  it, 
you  would  find  the  half-dollar  would  appear 
light,  when  compared  with  the  dollar. 

Lucy.  But,  mother,  what  do  you  compare 
the  soot  with,  when  you  say  it  is  light  ? 

Mother.  I  compare  it  in  my  mind  with 
other  things  of  nearly  the  same  size,  as  bits  of 
saw-dust  or  bits  of  gravel  ;  but  I  cannot  yet 
make  you  entirely  understand  what  I  mean. 
When  you  have  learned  the  uses  and  proper- 
ties of  more  things,  and  their  names,  I  shall 
be  better  able  to  answer  the  questions  you 
have  asked  me  upon  subjects,  which  I  cannot 
explain  to  you  now. 


As  they  returned  home,  they  saw  a  poor 
little  girl  crying  sadly,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
very  unhappy.  And  Lucy's  mother  said  to 
her, — Poor  girl  !  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?  What  makes  you  cry  so  ? 

O,  madam,  said  the  little  girl,  my  mother 
sent  me  to  market  with  a  basket  of  eggs,  and 


112 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


1  tumbled  down,  and  the  eggs  are  all  broken 
to  pieces,  and  I  am  very  sorrow  for  it ;  for 
my  mother  trusted  them  to  me,  as  she  thought 
I  would  take  care  of  them  ;  and  indeed  I 
minded  what  I  was  about,  but  a  man  with  a 
sack  upon  his  back  was  coming  by,  and  he 
pushed  me,  and  made  me  tumble  down. 

Mother.  Will  your  mother  be  angry  with 
you,  when  she  knows  it  ? 

Little  girl.  I  shall  tell  my  mother,  and  she 
will  not  be  angry  at  me  ;  but  she  will  be  very 
sorry,  and  she  will  cry,  because  she  is  very 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  113 

poor,  and  she  will  want  the  bread,  which  I 
was  to  have  bought  with  the  money,  for 
which  I  should  sell  the  eggs,  and  my  brothers 
and  sisters  will  have  no  supper. 

When  the  little  girl  had  done  speaking,  she 
sat  down  again  upon  the  bank,  and  cried 
very  sadly. 

Little  Lucy  pulled  her  mother's  gown,  to 
make  her  listen  to  her,  and  then  she  said 
softly,  —  Mother,  may  I  speak  to  the  poor 
little  girl  ? 

Mother.    Yes,  Lucy. 

Lucy.  Little  girl,  I  have  some  eggs  at 
home,  and  I  will  give  them  to  you,  if  my 
mother  will  let  me  go  for  them. 

My  dear,  said  Lucy's  mother  to  her,  our 
house  is  at  a  distance  ;  and,  if  you  were  to 
try  to  go  back  by  yourself,  you  could  not  find 
the  way  ;  but,  if  the  little  girl  will  come  to- 
morrow to  my  house,  you  may  give  her  the 
eggs ;  she  is  used  to  go  to  market,  and  knows 
the  road.  In  the  mean  time,  my  poor  little 
girl,  come  with  me  to  the  baker's  at  the  top 
of  the  hill,  and  I  will  give  you  a  loaf  to  carry 
home  to  your  mother  :  you  are  a  good  girl, 
and  tell  the  truth. 

So  Lucy's  mother  took  the  little  girl  to  the 
baker's  shop,  and  bought  a  loaf,  and  gave  it 
to  her  ;  and  the  little  girl  thanked  her,  and 
put  the  loaf  under  her  arm,  and  walked 
homewards,  very  happy. 

10 


114  EARLY   LESSONS. 

As  he  was  going  over  a  stile,  Harry  drop- 
ped his  handkerchief  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
it  fell  into  some  water,  and  was  made  quite 
wet;  and  he  was  forced  to  carry  it  in  his 
hand,  until  they  came  to  a  house,  where  his 
father  told  him  he  would  ask  leave  to  have 
it  dried  for  him.  And  he  asked  the  mistress 
of  the  house  to  let  Harry  go  to  the  fire,  to 
dry  his  handkerchief.  And  while  he  held  it 
at  the  fire,  Lucy  said,  she  saw  a  great  smoke 
go  from  the  handkerchief  into  the  fire,  and 
her  mother  asked  her  how  she  knew  it  was 
smoke  1 

Lucy.     Because  it  looks  like  smoke. 

Mother.  Hold  this  piece  of  paper  in  what 
you  think  like  smoke,  and  try  if  you  can 
catch  any  of  those  black  things,  that  were 
in  the  smoke  you  saw  in  the  brick-field. 

Lucy.  No,  mother,  it  does  not  blacken 
the  paper  in  the  least,  but  it  wets  the  paper. 

Mother.  Hold  this  cold  plate  in  what  you 
call  smoke  that  comes  from  the  handkerchief. 

Lucy.    Mother,  I  find  the  plate  is  wet. 

Mother.  What  is  it  then  that  comes  from 
the  handkerchief? 

Lucy.  Water.  The  water  with  which  it 
was  wetted,  when  it  fell  into  the  ditch. 

Mother.  What  makes  the  water  come 
out  of  it? 

Lucy.     The  heat  of  the  fire,  I  believe. 

Mother.  At  tea  to-night,  put  me  in  mind 
to  show  you  water  turned  into  steam,  and 
steam  turned  into  water. 


HARRY    AND  LUCY.  115 

When  they  had  gotten  home,  Harry  and 
Lucy  went  immediately,  without  losing  any 
time,  to  cast  up  two  sums  in  arithmetic, 
which  they  were  accustomed  to  do  every 
day. 

Harry  could  cast  up  sums  in  common  addi- 
tion readily  ;  and  Lucy  understood  the  rule 
called  subtraction  ;  and  she  knew  very  well 
what  was  meant  by  the  words  borrowing  and 
paying,  though  it  is  not  easy  to  understand 
them  distinctly.  But  she  had  been  taught 
carefully  by  her  mother,  who  was  a  woman  of 
good  sense,  and  who  was  more  desirous  that 
her  daughter  should  understand  what  she  did, 
than  that  she  should  merely  be  able  to  go  on 
as  she  was  told  to  do,  without  knowing  the 
reason  of  what  she  was  about. 

And  after  they  had  shown  the  sums,  which 
they  had  cast  up,  to  their  mother,  they  sat 
down  to  draw. 

Lucy  was  learning  to  draw  the  outlines  of 
flowers,  and  she  took  a  great  deal  of  pains, 
and  looked  attentively  at  the  prints  she  was 
copying.  And  she  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  have 
done,  or  to  begin  another  flower  ;  but  she  min- 
ded what  she  was  about,  and  attended  to  ev- 
ery thing,  that  her  mother  had  desired  her  the 
day  before  to  correct.  And  after  she  had  copi- 
ed a  print  of  a  periwinkle,  she  attempted  tc 
draw  it  from  the  flower  itself  ;  which  she  had 
placed  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  have  the  same 
appearance  as  the  print  had,  that  she  might  be 


116  EARLY    LESSONS. 

able  to  compare  her  drawing  from  the  print 
with  her  drawing  from  the  flower. 


She  found  it  was  not  so  easy  to  draw  from 
the  latter  as  from  the  former  ;  but  every  time 
ihat  she  tried,  it  became  easier.  And  she  was 
wise  enough  to  know,  that  it  was  better  to  be 
able  to  draw  from  things  themselves,  or  from 
nature,  as  it  is  called,  than  from  other  draw- 
ings ;  because  every  body  may  every  where 
have  objects  before  them,  which  they  may  im- 
itate :  and  by  practice  they  may  learn  to  draw 
or  delineate  objects  so  well,  as  to  be  able  to 
express  upon  paper,  &c.  to  other  people,  what- 
ever curious  things  they  meet  with. 

The  habit  of  drawing  is  particularly  useful 
to  those,  who  study  botany  ;  and  it  was  her 
love  of  botany,  that  made  Lucy  fond  of  draw- 
ing flowers. 

She  had  a  number  of  dried  plants,  the 
names  of  which  she  knew  ;  and  she  took 
great  pleasure  in  the  Spring,  and  in  the  begin- 
ning of  Summer,  in  gathering  such  plants  as 
were  in  flower,  and  in  discovering,  by  the 
rules  of  botany,  to  what  class,  order,  genus, 
and  species  they  belonged. 

Harry  also  knew  something  of  botany ;  but 
he  did  not  learn  to  draw  flowers.  He  was 
endeavoring,  with  great  care,  to  trace  a  map 
of  the  fields  about  his  father's  house.  He 
had  made  several  attempts,  and  he  had  failed 


HARRY  AND  LUCY.  117 

several  times  ;  but  he  began  again,  and  every 
time  he  improved. 

He  understood  very  well  the  use  of  a  map ; 
he  knew  that  it  was  a  sort  of  picture  ot 
ground,  by  which  he  could  measure  the  size 
of  every  yard,  or  garden,  or  field,  or  orchard, 
after  it  had  been  drawn  upon  paper,  as  well 
as  it  could  be  measured  upon  the  ground  itself. 
He  could  also  draw  a  little  with  a  rule  and 
compasses  ;  he  could  describe  a  circle,  and 
make  an  equilateral  triangle,  and  a  right  an- 
gle, and  he  had  begun  to  learn  to  write. 

After  they  had  drawn  and  written  for  one 
hour,  it  was  time  for  them  to  go  and  dress 
before  dinner. 

Harry's  walk  to  the  brick-field  had  made 
him  very  hungry,  so  that  he  ate  heartily. 

Whilst  he  was  eating,  his  mother  told  him, 
that  she  intended  to  send  him  into  the  gar- 
den, after  dinner,  for  some  strawberries,  that 
were  just  ripe  ;  and  she  advised  him  not  to 
eat  so  much  pudding,  if  he  wished  to  eat 
strawberries. 

Now  Harry  had  learnt  from  experience, 
that,  if  he  ate  too  much,  it  would  make  him 
sick  ;  he  therefore  prudently  determined,  not 
to  have  another  spoonful  of  pudding. 

A  little  while  after  dinner,  Harry  and  Lucy 
went  with  their  mother  into  the  garden  ;  and 
Lucy  was  desired  to  gather  six  strawberries, 
and  Harry  was  desired  to  gather  four  straw- 
berries. 

And  when  they  were  put    together,  Harry 


1. 18  EARLY    LESSONS. 

counted  them,  and  found,  tnat  they  mado 
ten.  Lucy  was  not  obliged  to  count  them, 
for  she  knew  by  rote,  or  by  heart,  as  it  is 
sometimes  called,  that  six  and  four  make  ten. 

Each  of  them  next  brought  five  strawber- 
ries ;  and  Harry  knew,  without  counting, 
that  when  they  were  put  together  they  would 
make  ten.  And  Lucy  knew,  that  the  parcel 
of  strawberries,  which  they  gathered  first, 
which  made  ten,  would,  when  added  to  the 
second  parcel,  which  also  consisted  of  ten, 
make  twenty. 

They  now  went,  and  gathered  ten  more. 
One  gathered  three,  and  the  other  gathered 
seven  ;  and  this  ten,  added  to  the  former 
number,  made  thirty.  And  they  went  again, 
and  brought  ten  more  to  their  mother  :  this 
ten  was  made  up  of  eight  and  two  ;  and  this 
ten,  added  to  the  thirty  they  had  gathered 
before,  made  forty. 


Whilst  they  were  eating  them,  Harry  asked 
his  sister  if  she  knew  what  was  meant  by  ty 
in  twenty  and  thirty.  Lucy  laughed  at  him 
for  supposing  that  she  did  not  know  it,  and 
said  her  father  had  told  her.  Harry  said,  that 
he  knew  before,  that  teen,  in  the  words  thirteen, 
fourteen,  &/c.  meant  ten  ;  but  he  did  not  know 
that  ty  in  twenty,  and  thirty,  &c.  meant  ten. 
And  he  said  he  did  not  know,  why  ten  should 
have  three  names,  ten,  teen,  and  ty. 

Lucy  said,  she  could  not  tell  ;  but  they  ask 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  119 

ed  their  father  ;  and  he  told  them,  that  ten 
meant  ten  by  itself,  without  any  other  num- 
ber joined  to  it ;  but  that  teen  meant  ten  with 
some  other  number  joined  to  it  ;  and  he  ask- 
ed Harry  what  thirteen  meant. 

Harry.  I  believe  that  it  is  three  and  ten  ; 
for  three,  joined  or  added  to  ten,  make  thir- 
teen. Fourteen  is  plainly  four  and  ten ;  fifteen, 
five  and  ten.  But  why,  father,  is  it  not  three- 
teen,  instead  of  being  called  thirteen  ? 

Father.  Because  it  is  easier  to  say  thir- 
teen, than  three-teen. 

Lucy.  But  why  is  it  called  twelve  ?  It 
should  be  two-teen. 

Harry.  And  eleven,  father,  should  be 
one-teen. 

Father.  I  cannot  now  explain  to  you,  my 
dear,  the  reason  why  we  have  not  those 
names  in  English  ;  but  you  perceive,  that  it  is 
easy  to  remember  the  names  of  fourteen,  fif- 
teen, sixteen,  &c.  because  we  remember  that 
four,  five,  six,  come  after  one  another,  and 
we  perceive,  that  all  that  is  necessary  is  to 
add  teen  to  them.  You  see  that  fourteen 
means  four  and  ten — four  added  to  ten. 

Harry.  But  does  ty  in  forty  mean  four 
added  to  ten  ? 

Lucy  replied,  that  it  did  not. 

Father.  No — it  means  four  times  ten  ;  not 
ten  added  to  four,  but  ten  added  together  four 
times.  And  fifty  means  ten  added  together 
five  times.  So  you  see,  that  it  is  useful  to 
have  three  names  for  ten,  which  differ  a  little 


120  EARLY    LESSONS. 

from  one  another,  but  which  are  also  some- 
thing like  each  other  ;  for  teen  is  like  ten, 
and  ty  is  like  teen.  Teen  is  always  used 
when  ten  is  added  to  any  number,  as  far  as 
nineteen  ;  and  ty  is  always  used  when  more 
tens  than  one  are  counted,  as  far  as  a  hundred. 

Harry.  Then  twenty  should  be  two-ty  ; 
and  thirty  should  be  three-ty. 

Father.  I  told  you  before,  my  dear,  that 
thirteen  is  used  instead  of  three-teen,  because 
the  former  word  is  more  easily  pronounced 
than  the  latter.  Thirty  is  used  instead  of 
three-ty  for  the  same  reason. 

Harry.     But  why  is  not  twenty  two-ty  1 

Father.  Twenty  is  made  up  of  ty  and  of 
twain,  a  word  that  was  formerly  used  for 
two  ;  the  word  twain,  joined  to  ty,  makes 
twainty,  which,  when  spoken  quickly,  sounds 
like  twenty. 

Harry.  But,  father,  will  you  tell  me  an- 
other thing  ? 

Father.  No,  Harry,  we  have  talked  enough 
about  numbers  at  present ;  you  will  be  tired 
by  thinking  any  longer  with  much  attention, 
and  I  do  not  wish  that  you  should  be  tired, 
when  you  attend  to  what  you  are  about. 
Thinking,  without  tiring  ourselves,  is  very 
agreeable  ;  but  thinking  becomes  disagree- 
able, if  we  tire  ourselves  :  and  as  thinking 
with  attention  is  useful  and  necessary,  we 
should  take  care,  not  to  make  it  disagreeable 
to  ourselves. 


HARRY    AND  LUCY.  121 

It  was  now  tea-time ;  and  Harry  and  Lucy 
usually  supped  at  the  same  time  that  their 
father  and  mother  drank  tea  ;  so  that  they 
had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  many  useful 
and  entertaining  things,  that  passed  in 
conversation  :  and  Lucy,  recollecting  that  her 
mother  had  promised  to  tell  her,  at  tea-time, 
something  more  about  smoke  and  steam,  put 
her  in  mind  of  what  she  had  promised.  Then 
her  mother  called  for  a  lighted  wax  candle, 
and  for  a  lighted  tallow  candle,  and  she  desir- 
ed Lucy  to  hold  a  cold  plate  over  the  wax 
candle,  and  Harry  to  hold  another  cold  plate 
over  the  tallow  candle,  and  in  a  short  time  a 
considerable  quantity  of  smoke,  or  soot,  was 
collected  upon  each  of  the  plates.  Another 
cold  plate  was  held  over  the  tea-urn,  in  which 
water  was  boiling,  and  from  which  there  issu- 
ed a  large  quantity  of  steam,  or  vapor  of  wa- 
ter. This  steam  was  stopped  by  the  plate, 
which,  by  degrees,  was  covered  with  a  num- 
ber of  very  small  drops,  not  so  large  as  the 
head  of  a  miniken  pin.  After  the  plate  had 
been  held  over  the  steam  a  little  longer,  these 
drops  became  larger — they  attracted  one  an- 
other ;  that  is  to  say,  one  little  drop  was  joined 
to  another,  and  made  a  large  drop  ;  and  so  on, 
till  at  length  the  drops  ran  so  much  together, 
as  to  lose  their  round  shape,  and  to  run  over 
the  plate.  Harry  and  Lucy  were  much  enter- 
tained with  this  experiment.  Harry  observ- 
11 


122  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ed,  that  the  vapor  of  water  was  very  different 
from  the  vapor  of  a  candle. 

Father.  I  am  very  glad  to  find,  that  you 
have  so  readily  learned  something  of  the 
meaning  of  the  word  vapor,  which  I  have  pur- 
posely made  use  of  in  the  place  of  the  word 
steam  ;  but  you  are  mistaken,  my  dear,  in 
saying  vapor  of  a  candle.  Lamp-black,  soot, 
and  smoke,  are  formed  from  the  vapor  of  the 
oily  parts  of  burning  bodies.  Formerly  peo- 
ple made  use  of  lamps  instead  of  candles,  and 
the  soot  of  those  lamps  was  called  lamp-black, 
though  it  should  properly  be  called  oil-black. 
Now  pray,  Harry,  do  you  know  the  mean- 
ing of  the  word  evaporate  ? 

Harry.  I  believe  it  means  being  turned 
into  vapor. 

Father.  Did  you  observe  any  thing  else  in 
the  experiments  which  I  have  just  shown 
to  you  1 

Harry.  Yes,  father — 1  saw  that  the  vapor 
of  oil  was  solid  when  it  was  cold. 

Father.    Condensed. 

Harry.    Yes,  condensed. 

Father.  And  did  you  not  observe  that  the 
vapor  of  water,  when  condensed,  was  fluid  1 
— And  what  did  you  observe,  Lucy  ? 

Lucy.  I  thought,  father,  that  the  soot,  or 
lampblack,  which  you  told  me  was  the  vapor 
of  oil,  did  not  seem  to  turn  into  oil  again, 
when  it  was  condensed  ;  but  that  it  had  en- 
tirely a  different  appearance  from  the  tallow 
and  wax  from  which  the  oil  came  ;  and  yet, 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  123 

that  the  vapor  of  water,  when   it    was  con- 
densed, became  water  again. 

Father.  I  do  not  think,  my  dear  children, 
that  my  time  has  been  thrown  away  in  show- 
ing you  this  experiment.  And,  as  I  wish  to 
make  you  like  to  attend  to  what  is  taught  to 
you,  I  will  endeavor  to  make  it  agreeable  to 
you,  by  joining  the  feeling  of  pleasure  to  the 
feeling  of  attention  in  your  mind,  by  giving 
you  pleasure,  or  the  hope  of  pleasure,  when 
you  attend. 

Harry.  I  know  what  you  mean,  father  ; 
for,  if  we  had  not  attended  to  what  we  were 
about,  you  would  have  endeavored  to  give  us 
pain. 

Father.  No,Harry,  you  are  a  little  mistaken. 
I  don't  wish  to  give  you  pain,  unless  when  I 
want  to  prevent  you  from  doing  something 
that  would  be  hurtful  to  yourself,  or  to  other 
people  ;  and  then  I  wish  to  associate,  that  is, 
join  pain  with  such  actions.  But  I  do  not  ex- 
pect, that  little  boys  and  girls  should  be  as  wise 
as  men  and  women  ;  and,  if  you  do  not  attend, 
I  only  abstain  from  giving  you  pleasure. 

Harry.  But,  father,  what  pleasure  were. 
you  going  to  give  us  ? 

Father.  I  was  not  going  to  give  you  any 
immediate  or  present  pleasure,  but  only  the 
hope  of  some  pleasure  to-morrow.  Youi 
mother  and  I  intend,  to-morrow,  to  walk  to 
breakfast  with  her  brother  your  uncle,  who 
has  come  to  live  at  a  very  pretty  place  not 
quite  three  miles  from  this  house.  He  was 


124  EARLY    LESSONS 

formerly  a  physician,  and  he  has  several  cu- 
rious instruments — a  microscope,  an  electrify- 
ing machine,  an  air-pump,  and  a  collection  of 
fossils,  and  a  few  shells  and  prints  ;  and  he 
knows  very  well  how  to  explain  things  to 
other  people.  And  the  pleasure  that  your 
mother  and  I  meant  to  give  you,  was  to  take 
you  with  us  to-morrow  morning. 

Harry  and  Lucy  were  very  happy  when 
they  were  going  to  bed,  from  the  remem- 
brance of  the  day  that  they  had  passed,  and 
from  the  hope  of  being  happy  on  the  day 
which  was  to  come. 


At  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  Harry  wa- 
kened ;  and  as  they  were  to  set  out  for  Flower- 
hill  at  seven,  he  got  up,  and  dressed  himself 
with  great  alacrity,  and  Lucy  did  the  same. 
But,  alas  !  their  hopes  were  disappointed,  for 
a  violent  thunder-storm  came  on  before  seven 
o'clock,  which  prevented  their  walk  to  their 
uncle's. 

Harry  planted  himself  at  the  window,  and 
examined  every  cloud  as  it  passed  by,  and 
every  quarter  of  the  sky,  in  expectation  of 
fair  weather  and  sunshine.  But  his  sister, 
who  was  older,  knew  that  her  standing  at  the 
window  would  not  alter  the  weather  ;  and 
she  prudently  sat  down,  to  study  botany  be- 
fore breakfast,  and  to  examine  some  flowers, 
which  she  had  been  gathering  in  her  walk 
the  day  before. 


HARRY   AND   LUCY.  125 

When  Harry  had  stood  some  time  at  the 
window,  and  had  seen  no  appearance  of  a 
change  in  the  sky,  he  turned  about,  and  look- 
ed wistfully  round  him,  like  a  person  who  did 
not  know  what  to  do  with  himself.  His 
mother,  who,  at  that  instant,  came  into  the 
room,  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  melancho- 
ly figure  which  she  saw  before  her  ;  and  she 
asked  Harry  what  was  the  matter.  Harry 
owned  that  he  felt  sorry  and  sad,  because  he 
had  been  disappointed  of  the  pleasure  which 
his  father  had  promised  him. 

Mother.  But,  Harry,  my  dear,  your  father 
did  not  promise  you  fine  weather. 

Harry  (laughing).  No,  mother,  I  know  he 
did  not,  but  I  expected  that  it  would  be  a  fine 
day,  and  I  am  sorry  that  it  is  not. 

Mother.  Well,  Harry,  that  is  all  very  nat- 
ural, as  it  is  called,  or  to  speak  more  proper- 
ly, it  is  what  happens  commonly.  But  though 
you  cannot  alter  the  weather,  you  may  alter 
your  own  feelings,  by  turning  your  own  at- 
tention to  something  else. 

Harry.    To  what  else,  mother  ? 

Mother.  You  have  several  different  occu- 
pations, that  you  are  fond  of  :  and  if  you  turn 
your  thoughts  to  any  of  them,  it  will  prevent 
you  from  feeling  sad  upon  account  of  the  dis- 
appointment that  you  have  met  with.  Be- 
sides, my  dear  Harry,  the  rain  must,  in  some 
respects,  be  agreeable  to  you,  and  it  is  cer- 
tainly useful. 

Harry.    O  yes,  mother,   I  know  what  you 


120  EARLY    LESSONS. 

mean — my  garden.  It  was  indeed  in  great 
want  of  water,  and  it  cost  me  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  to  carry  water  to  it  twice  every  day. 
My  peas  will  come  on  now,  and  I  shall  have 
plenty  of  radishes — Thank  you.  mother,  for 
putting  me  in  mind  of  my  garden  ;  it  has 
made  me  more  contented. 

Harry's  father  now  came  in,  and  seeing 
that  he  was  cheerful,  and  that  he  bore  his 
disappointment  pretty  well,  he  asked  him,  if 
he  had  ever  seen  a  cork  garden. 

Harry.  No,  father  ;  I  remember  I  have 
seen  a  cork  model  of  a  house,  but  I  never 
saw  the  model  of  a  garden  made  of  cork. 

Father.  But  this  is  not  the  model  of  a  gar- 
den, but  a  sort  of  small  garden  made  upon 
cork.  Here  it  is. 

Harry.  Why,  this  is  nothing  but  the  plate, 
or  saucer,  that  commonly  stands  under  a 
flowerpot,  with  a  piece  of  cork,  like  the  bung 
of  a  barrel,  floating  in  water. 

Father.  Notwithstanding  its  simplicity, it  is 
capable,  to  a  certain  degree,  of  doing  what  a 
garden  does.  It  can  produce  a  salad.  Here 
are  the  seeds  of  cresses  and  mustard  ;  sprin- 
kle them  thinly  upon  this  cork,  and  lay  it  in 
the  closet  near  the  south  window. 

Harry.    When  may  I  look  at  it  again  ? 

Father.  Whenever  you  please.  But  do  not 
touch,  nor  shake  it,  for,  if  you  do,  it  will  dis- 
turb the  seeds  from  the  places  where  they 
now  rest,  and  that  will  prevent  them  from 
growing.  In  two  or  three  days  you  will  see, 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  12? 

that  cresses  and  mustard  plants  have  grown 
from  these  seeds. 

Harry.  Pray,  father,  will  the  seeds  grow 
on  the  cork,  as  they  grow  in  the  ground  '] 

Father.  No,  my  dear,  it  is  not  the  cork  that 
nourishes  the  plant,  but  it  is  the  water  which 
makes  it  grow.  If'you  cover  the  bottom  of  a 
soup  plate  with  a  piece  of  flannel,  and  pour 
water  into  the  place  as  high  as  just  to  touch 
the  flannel,  and  scatter  seeds  on  the  surface 
of  the  flannel,  they  will  grow  upon  it  in  the 
same  manner  that  they  grow  upon  cork. 

Harry.  But  if  it  is  by  the  water  only,  that 
the  seeds  are  made  to  grow,  would  they  not 
grow  as  well,  if  they  were  put  upon  the  bot- 
tom of  the  plate,  without  any  cork  or  flannel'? 

Father.  No,  my  little  friend,  they  would 
not  ;  because,  if  there  were  only  so  much  wa- 
ter in  the  plate  as  to  cover  only  half  of  each  of 
the  seeds,  it  would  be  so  shallow,  as  to  be  evap- 
orated (you  know  what  that  means,  Harry,) 
before  the  seeds  could  grow.  Perhaps,  also, 
the  surface  of  the  plate  may  be  so  smooth,  as 
to  prevent  the  fibres  of  the  roots  from  taking 
hold  of  it.  And  there  are  many  more  rea- 
sons, which  occur  to  me,  why  it  is  probable, 
that  they  would  not  grow. 

Harry.     But  we  can  try,  father. 

Father.  Yes,  my  dear,  that  is  the  only  cer- 
tain method  of  knowing. 

Lucy's  mother  recollected,  that  she  had 
promised  her  the  last  year,  to  show  her  how 


128  EARLY    LESSONS. 

butter  was  made  ;  and,  as  the  rain  in  the 
morning  had  prevented  Lucy  from  going  to 
her  uncle's,  her  mother  thought  it  would  be 
a  good  time  to  take  her  into  the  dairy,  where 
the  dairy-maid  was  churning.  Little  Harry 
was  permitted  to  go  with  his  sister. 

They  remembered  the  wide  shallow  pans, 
which  they  had  seen  the  year  before  ;  and 
they  recollected  that  their  mother  had  told 
them  that  the  cream,  or  oily  part  of  the  milk, 
which  was  the  lightest,  separated  itself  from 
the  heaviest  part  ;  or,  to  speak  more  properly, 
that  the  heaviest  part  of  the  milk  descended 
towards  the  bottom  of  the  pans,  and  left  the 
cream,  or  lightest  part,  uppermost  ;  arid  that 
this  cream  was  skimmed  off  twice  every  day, 
and  laid  by,  till  a  sufficient  quantity,  that  is 
to  say,  five  or  six  or  any  larger  number  of 
quarts,  was  collected. 

They  now  saw  twelve  quarts,  or  three  gal- 
lons of  cream,  put  into  a  common  churn  :  and 
the  dairy-maid  put  the  cream  in  motion,  by 
means  of  the  churn-staff,  which  she  moved  up 
and  down  with  a  regular  motion,  for  seven 
or  eight  minutes  :  when  she  appeared  tired, 
another  of  the  maids  took  the  churn-staff 
from  her,  and  worked  in  her  stead  ;  and  so 
on  alternately  for  about  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  when  the  butter  began  to  come,  as  it  is 
called,  or  to  be  collected  in  little  lumps  in  the 
cream.  Harry  and  Lucy  were  much  sur- 
prised, when  the  lid  or  cover  of  the  chum 


HARRY   AND    LUCY. 


129 


was  taken  off,  to  see  small  lumps  of  butter 
floating  in  the  milk. 

They  saw  that  the  cream  had  changed  its 
color  and  consistency,  and  that  several  small 
pieces  of  butter  were  swimming  on  its  sur- 
face. These  pieces  of  butter  were  collected, 
and  joined  together  into  one  lump  by  the 
dairy-maid,  who  poured  some  cold  water  into 
the  churn,  to  make  the  butter  harder,  and  to 
make  it  separate  more  easily  from  the  milk, 
which  had  become  warm  with  the  quick  mo- 
tion that  had  been  used  to  make  the  butter 


130  EARLY    LESSONS. 

come.  Then  she  carefully  took  it  all  out  of  the 
churn  ;  and  put  it  into  a  wooden  dish,  and 
pressed  it,  so  as  to  force  all  the  milk  out  of  it. 
She  then  washed  it  very  clean,  in  cold  water, 
a  great  many  times,  and,  with  a  wooden 
thing,  called  a  slice,  which  is  like  a  large  flat 
saucer,  she  cut  the  lump  of  butter,  that  she 
had  made  into  pieces,  in  order  to  pull  out  of 
it  all  the  cow's  hairs  that  had  fallen  into  the 
milk,  of  which  the  cream  had  been  made. 

Many  of  these  hairs  stuck  to  the  slice,  and 
others  were  picked  out,  which  appeared  as 
the  butter  was  cut  in  pieces. 

The  butter  was  then  well  washed,  and  the 
water  in  which  it  had  been  washed  was 
squeezed  out  of  it.  The  butter  was  now  put 
into  a  pair  of  scales,  and  it  weighed  nearly 
three  pounds.  Some  of  it  was  rolled  into  cylin- 
ders, of  about  half  a  pound  weight  each  ;  and 
some  of  it  was  made  into  little  pats,  and  stamp- 
ed with  wooden  stamps,  which  had  different 
figures  carved  upon  them  ;  the  impression  of 
which  figures  was  marked  upon  the  butter. 

Lucy  asked  what  became  of  the  milk,  or 
liquor,  which  was  left  in  the  churn ;  her  mother 
told  her  it  was  called  buttermilk,  and  that  it 
was  usually  given  to  the  pigs. 

Lucy.  Mother — I  have  heard  that  in  Ire- 
land and  in  Scotland,  the  poor  drink  butter- 
milk, and  are  very  fond  of  it, 

Mother.  Yes,  my  dear,  but  the  buttermilk 
in  Ireland  is  very  different  from  the  butter- 
milk hore.  We  separate  the  thick  part  of  the 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  131 

cream  from  the  rest,  for  the  purpose  of  ma- 
king butter  ;  but  in  Ireland  they  lay  by  the 
thinner  part,  which  is  only  milk,  as  well  as  the 
thick  cream, for  churning,  and  they  add  to  it  the 
richest  part  of  the  new  milk,  which  is  what 
comes  last  from  the  cow  when  she  is  milked  : 
and  what  is  left,  after  the  butter  is  made,  is 
for  this  reason  not  so  sour ;  and  is  more  nou- 
rishing than  the  buttermilk  in  this  country. 

Lucy.  Do  not  they  sometimes  make  whey 
of  buttermilk  and  new  milk  1 

Mother.  Yes,  my  dear,  whey  is  made  or 
buttermilk  and  skimmed  milk  ;  but  it  is  not 
thought  so  pleasant,  nor  useful  in  this  country, 
though  it  is  much  liked  in  Ireland  ;  probably 
because  the  buttermilk  here  is  not  so  good  as 
it  is  in  Ireland.  I  am  told,  that  it  is  frequently 
preferred  in  that  country  to  any  other  kind  of 
whey,  even  by  those  who  are  rich  enough  to 
have  wine-whey.  You  see,  my  dear  Lucy, 
that  small  circumstances  make  great  differen- 
ces in  things.  I  have  heard  it  said,  that  the 
Irish  poor  must  be  very  wretched  indeed,  if 
they  be  forced  to  use  buttermilk,  instead  of 
milk  ;  but  the  fact  is,  their  buttermilk  is  so 
much  better  than  ours,  that  they  frequently 
prefer  it  to  new  milk.  To  judge  wisely,  we 
must  carefully  make  ourselves  acquainted 
with  the  facts  about  which  we  are  to  judge. 

Harry.  Pray,  mother,  why  does  dashing 
about  the  milk  with  the  churn-staff  make 
butter  1 

Mother.    The  process  of  making  butter  is 


132  EARLY    LESSONS. 

not  yet  exactly  understood.  Cream  consists  of 
oil,  whey,  and  curd,  and  an  acid  peculiar  to 
milk.  You  know  what  is  meant  by  an  acid. 

Lucy.  Not  very  well  ;  I  know  it  means 
what  is  sour. 

Mother.  Yes,  my  dear,  sourness  is  one  of 
the  properties  of  acids  ;  and  when  you  have 
acquired  a  knowledge  of  a  greatei  number  of 
facts,  that  you  can  compare  with  one  anoth- 
er, I  shall  be  better  able  to  explain  to  you 
what  is  meant  by  many  terms,  that  I  cannot 
at  present  make  you  understand. 

Harry.  But,  mother,  you  have  not  yet  told 
us  why  churning  makes  butter. 

Mother.  My  dear,  it  does  not  make  butter  ; 
it  only  separates  the  oily  or  buttery  part  of 
the  cream  from  the  curd  or  cheesy  part,  and 
from  the  whey.  We  do  not  know  exactly 
how  this  is  done  by  churning  ;  but  it  is  proba- 
ble, that,  by  striking  the  cream  with  the 
churn-staff,  or  by  shaking  it  violently,  the 
oily  parts,  or  particles,  are,  from  time  to  time, 
forced  nearer  together,  which  enables  them 
to  attract  each  other. 

Harry.  Yes,  mother.  I  know  what  that  is 
— just  as  globules  of  quicksilver  run  together, 
when  they  are  near  enough. 

Mother.  Globules  !  Harry,  where  did  you 
find  that  new  word  ? 

Harry.  Father  told  it  to  me  the  other  day, 
when  I  was  looking  at  some  quicksilver  that 
he  had  let  fall.  He  told  me  the  little  drops 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  133 

of  quicksilver,  or  mercury,  which  look  like 
balls,  were  called  globules,  or  little  globes. 

Lucy.  And,  mother,  the  drops  of  dew  and 
rain  stand  on  several  leaves  separate  from 
one  another.  On  a  nasturtion  leaf  I  have 
seen  drops  of  water  almost  as  round  as  drops 
of  quicksilver  ;  and  when  I  pushed  two  of 
the  drops  near  one  another,  they  ran  together 
and  formed  one  larger  drop. 

Mother.  They  were  attracted  together,  as  it 
is  called. 

Lucy.  But  the  larger  drop,  which  was 
made  of  the  two  drops,  was  not  twice  as  large 
as  either  of  the  two  small  ones. 

Mother.    Are  you  sure  of  that,  Lucy  ? 

Lucy.    No,  mother  ;  but  I  thought  so. 

Mother.  Two  drops  of  mercury  of  the  same 
size,  or  two  drops  of  any  other  fluid,  when 
they  join,  do  not  form  a  drop  that  is  twice  as 
large  in  breadth,  or  diameter,  as  one  of  the 
small  drops  ;  but  such  a  drop  contains  exact- 
ly as  much,  and  weighs  as  heavy,  as  the  two 
small  drops. 

Harry.    I  do  not  understand  you,  mother. 

Mother.  I  will,  by  degrees,  endeavor  to 
make  you  understand  me  ;  but  it  cannot  be 
done  at  once,  and  you  have  attended  enough 
now. — Lucy,  it  is  time  to  read — let  us  go  on 
with  the  account  of  insects,  which  you  were 
reading  yesterday. 


134  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Then  Lucy  and  Harry,  and  their  mother, 
left  the  dairy,  and  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

Mother.  Here,  Harry,  sit  down,  and  listen 
to  what  your  sister  reads.  You  will  soon 
be  able  to  read  to  yourself  without  assistance ; 
which,  in  time,  will  become  an  agreeable  em- 
ployment. 

Lucy  now  read  in  the  Guardian,  No.  157, 
a  very  entertaining  account  of  the  industry 
and  ingenuity  of  ants. 

Both  Harry  and  she  wished  much  that  they 
could  find  some  ants'  nests,  that  they  might 
see  how  they  carried  on  their  works.  Their 
mother  said  that  she  could  show  them  an  ant's 
nest  in  the  garden  :  and,  as  it  had  done  rain- 
ing, she  took  them  into  the  garden,  and  show- 
ed them  two  little  holes  in  the  ground,  where 
the  ants  had  formed  cells,  which  served  them 
for  houses  to  live  in,  and  for  store-houses,  to 
keep  their  eggs  and  food.  They  were  busily 
employed  in  making  a  road,  or  causeway 
from  one  of  these  holes  to  the  other.  Great 
numbers  were  employed  in  carrying  earth,  to 
repair  breaches  which  had  been  made  in  their 
work  by  the  rain. 

Harry  laid  some  dead  flies  and  some  small 
crumbs  of  bread  upon  the  track  where  the 
ants  were  at  work  ;  but  they  were  not  divert- 
ed from  their  labor  by  this  temptation ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  pushed  the  dead  flies  and  the 
crumbs  out  of  their  way,  and  went  steadily 
on  with  their  business.  Harry's  mother  told 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  135 

him  she  had  tried  the  same  experiment  before, 
and  that,  perhaps,  another  time  the  ants  might 
choose  to  eat,  instead  of  pushing  away  the 
food,  that  was  offered  to  them.  Harry  and 
Lucy  staid,  patiently  watching  the  ants,  till 
it  was  time  to  dress  for  dinner. 

After  dinner  Harry's  father  told  him,  that 
the  weather  was  sufficiently  fine  for  their 
jaunt  to  Flower-hill  ;  and  Harry  now  saw, 
that  it  was  not  such  a  great  misfortune,  as 
he  had  thought  it  in  the  morning,  to  have 
his  walk  deferred,  and  he  and  Lucy  set  out 
joyfully  with  their  father  and  mother,  to  go 
to  see  their  uncle. 

Their  way  lay  through  some  pretty  fields, 
and  over  stiles,  and  through  a  wood,  and 
along  a  shady  lane.  As  they  passed  through 
the  fields,  Harry,  when  they  came  to  a  corn- 
field, was  able  to  tell  the  name  of  the  grain, 
which  was  growing  in  it,  and  Lucy  told  him 
the  names  of  several  of  the  wild  flowers  and 
weeds  which  were  growing  among  the  corn 
and  under  the  hedges. 

During  the  last  year,  Harry  had  learnt  to 
be  very  active  in  body,  as  well  as  in  mind  : 
and,  when  he  came  to  a  low  stile,  he  put  his 
hands  upon  the  top  rail,  and  vaulted  nimbly 
over  it.  And  Lucy  ran  almost  as  fast  as  her 
brother,  and  was  very  active  in  every  exercise 
that  was  proper  for  a  little  girl. 

They  soon  came  to  a  windmill,  which  went 
round  with  great  quickness.  It  was  not 
necessary  for  his  father  to  warn  Harry,  not  tc 


1.36 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


go  too  near  the  arms  or  sails  of  the  windmill, 
as  he  had  read  in  a  "  Present  for  a  little  Boy" 
how  dangerous  it  is,  to  go  within  the  reach 
of  a  windmill's  sails. 

He  was  not  however  foolishly  afraid,  but 
wisely  careful.  He  kept  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  sails,  but  he  was  not  afraid  of  going  to  the 
door,  or  the  wheel  and  lever,  by  which  the 
top  was  turned  round  ;  and  he  counted,  with 
the  assistance  of  his  father,  the  number  of 
turns  which  the  sails  made  in  a  minute. 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  137 

His  father  looked  at  his  watch,  during  one 
minute  ;  and  Harry  counted  the  number  of 
revolutions,  or  turns,  that  the  sails  made  in 
that  time.  He  found,  that  they  went  round 
forty-five  times  in  a  minute. 

Lucy  observed,  that  the  middle  of  the  sails 
moved  round  through  a  very  small  space,  but 
that  the  ends,  or  tips  of  them,  went  very  fast. 

Father.  My  dear,  you  see  a  black  spot  in 
that  part  of  the  cloth  of  the  sails,  which  is  near 
the  centre  of  the  arms,  goes  as  often  round  as 
the  tips  of  the  sails — What  then  do  you  mean, 
by  saying,  that  the  tips  move  very  fast  1 

Lucy.  I  mean,  that  they  go  a  great  way 
in  a  little  time. 

Father.  What  do  you  mean  by  a  great  way? 

Lucy.  I  am  afraid,  that  I  cannot  explain 
myself  clearly  —  I  mean,  that  the  tips  of  the 
windmill  sails  go  through  a  great  way  in  the 
air — I  believe,  I  should  say,  that  they  describe 
a  very  large  circle  ;  and  the  part  of  the  sails, 
that  are  near  the  centre,  describe  a  small  circle. 

Father.  Now  I  understand  you  distinctly  : 
the  circle,  which  the  tips  describe,  is  very 
large,  when  compared  with  that  described  by 
the  part  near  the  centre.  I  have  tried  several 
times  how  fast  the  tips  of  windmill  sails 
move  ;  and,  when  there  was  a  brisk  wind, 
they  moved  a  mile  in  a  minute. 

Harry.    That  is  very   fast   indeed  ! — Bui 
how  could  you  tell  this,  father  ? 
12 


138  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Father.  I  cannot  explain  to  you  now  ;  hut 
some  time  hence  I  will. 

They  now  went  through  a  wood  where  they 
saw  squirrels  jumping  from  tree  to  tree  with 
great  agility  ;  and  rabbits,  sitting  up  on  their 
hind  legs,  looking  about  them,  and  running 
from  one  hole  to  another,  as  if  they  were  at 
play.  Harry  asked  several  questions  about 
the  squirrels  and  rabbits,  and  about  wood- 
peckers, and  other  birds  that  he  saw.  By 
these  means,  he  and  Lucy  got  some  knowl- 
edge in  their  walk,  and  were  amused  the 
whole  way  to  their  uncle's. 

Harry.  Father,  this  walk  puts  me  in  mind 
of  '  Eyes  and  no  Eyes,'  in  Evenings  at  Home. 
I  feel  very  glad  to  find,  that  things,  which  I 
have  read  in  that  book,  are  like  real  things, 
and  that  what  I  have  read  is  of  use  to  me.' 

Neither  Lucy  nor  Harry  had  ever  seen  their 
uncle  B — ;  and  they  expected,  as  he  was 
called  Doctor,  that  he  must  be  a  very  grave 
old  man,  who  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  talk 
to  little  children  :  but  they  were  much  mista- 
ken ;  for  they  found,  that  he  was  very  cheerful, 
and  that  he  talked  to  them  a  great  deal. 

After  tea  he  took  them  into  his  study,  in 
which,  beside  a  great  many  books,  there  were 
several  instruments  and  machines  of  different 
sorts. 

They  had  both  seen  a  barometer  and  ther- 
mometer at  home,  but  the  barometer  at  Doc- 
tor B — 's  was  much  larger,  than  what  Harry 
had  seen  before;  and  it  was  not  fixed  up  against 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  139 

the  wall,  but  was  hung  upon  a  stand  with 
three  legs,  in  such  a  manner,  that,  when  it 
was  touched,  it  swung  about ;  and  the  shining 
quicksilver,  withinside  of  it,  rose  and  fell,  so 
as  to  show  that  it  did  not  stick  to  the  tube, 
that  contained  it.  There  were  an  air-pump, 
and  a  microscope,  and  a  wooden  orrery,  in  the 
room,  and  a  pair  of  very  large  globes. 

Doctor  B —  let  Harry  examine  them.  And 
he  was  so  good,  as  to  answer  all  the  questions 
that  either  Lucy  or  Harry  asked  him.  Harry 
asked  him,  what  that  shining  liquid  was, 
which  he  saw  in  the  tube  of  the  barometer. 

Doctor  B.  It  is  a  metal  called  quicksilver  ; 
and  it  is  found  in  mines  under  ground. 

Harry.  My  father  showed  me  quicksilver 
the  other  day,  and  it  was  liquid,  and  was  spilt 
on  the  table, and  on  the  floor ;  and  how  can  that 
be  a  metal  ?  I  thought  metals  were  all  solid. 

Doctor  B.  So  they  all  are,  when  they  are 
sufficiently  cold. 

Harry.  Then  is  quicksilver  hotter  than  iron? 

Doctor  B.  I  cannot  explain  to  you,  at  pres- 
ent, what  you  want  to  know. 

Harry.    What  is  that  globe  made  of  ? 

Doctor  B.    Of  pasteboard  and  plaster. 

Harry.  How  is  it  made  round  ?  I  thought 
pasteboard  was  made  of  flat  sheets  of  paper, 
pasted  upon  one  another. 

Doctor  B.  Flat  pasteboard  is ;  but  the  paste- 
board upon  this  globe  is  made  round,  by  means 
of  a  round  mould,  upon  which  it  is  formed — • 
You  know,  I  suppose,  what  a  mould  is  ? 


14U  tARLV    LESSONh. 

Harry.  Yes,  I  do,  pretty  well.  But  how 
can  the  pasteboard,  after  it  is  all  pasted  to- 
gether, be  gotten  off  a  round  mould  1 

Doctor  B.  After  it  is  dry,  it  is  cut  all  round 
with  a  knife  ;  and  then  it  will  come  off  the 
mould  in  two  caps,  as  the  shell  of  a  nut,  when 
it  is  opened  with  a  knife,  comes  off  the  kernel. 

Harry.  What  is  the  use  of  this  machine, 
which  you  call  an  air-pump  ? 

Doctor  B.  To  pump  air  out  of  that  glass 
vessel,  which  you  see. 

Harry.    I  do  not  quite  understand  you,  sir. 

Doctor  B.  No,  my  dear,  it  is  not  probable, 
that  you  can ;  but  I  will  soon  give  you  a  little 
book,  which  will  teach  you  the  uses  of  several 
instruments  of  this  sort. 

Harry.  My  dear  uncle,  I  cannot  tell  you, 
how  much  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you. 

Harry  and  Lucy  were  much  delighted  with 
what  they  saw  at  their  uncle's  ;  and  as  they 
had  not  been  troublesome,  he  asked  their 
father  and  mother,  to  bring  them  to  Flower- 
hill,  when  they  next  came  to  see  him. 

They  returned  home  that  evening,  just  be- 
fore it  was  dark,  and  went  to  bed  by  moon- 
light. 

Thus  ends  an  account  of  three  days  passed 
by  Harry  and  Lucy.  One  day  when  Harry 
was  about  five,  and  Lucy  six  years  old.  And 
two  days,  a  year  afterwards,  when  Lucy  was 
seven,  and  Harry  six  years  of  age. 

END  OF    PART    II. 


141 

HARRY  AND   LUCY. 

PART  III. 

TO    PARENTS. 

WE  are  afraid,  that  the  following  pages  should  appear 
too  difficult  for  children  of  eight  or  ten  years  old,  if  their 
thoughts  have  not  been  turned  to  subjects  of  the  sort, 
which  are  here  introduced  to  their  attention.  We, 
therefore,  most  earnestly  deprecate  the  use  of  the  follow- 
ing book,  -.ill  the  understandings  of  the  pupils,  into  whose 
handa  it  may  be  put,  shall  have  been  previously  accus- 
tomed to  the  terms,  and  to  the  objects,  which  are  men- 
tioned in  the  following  parts  of  Harry  and  Lucy. 

The  intention  of  the  writers  is  to  prepare  the  mind 
for  more  difficult  studies  ;  and  the  end,  which  they  have 
in  view,  will  be  completely  frustrated,  if  this  little  book 
is  crammed  into  the  minds  of  children.  It  is  intended 
to  be  used  in  very  short  portions,  and  not  to  be  formed 
into  necessary  tasks  ;  but  to  be  read  when  the  child's 
mind  has  been  prepared,  by  what  it  has  already  seen 
and  heard,  to  wish  to  hear  and  see  more. 

That  these  lessons  (not  tasks)  are  in  themselves  in- 
telligible to  children,  we  are  certain ;  because  they  have 
been  readily  comprehended  by  several  young  children, 
and  in  particular  by  a  boy  of  four  years  and  two  months 
old.  All  the  experiments  herein  related  were  shown  to 
him,  at  different  times,  within  a  fortnight.  He  waa 


142  EARLY    LESSONS. 

much  entertained.  His  lessons  were  short,  but  his  at- 
tention was  engaged,  and  he  seemed  to  wish  for  their 
return  with  eagerness.  That  he  did,  and  does  under- 
stand them  thoroughly,  and  that  he  has  not  been  taught 
certain  answers  to  certain  questions  by  rote,  we  assert. 
In  making  this  assertion,  we  do  not  mean  to  claim  any 
superiority  for  this  child  over  other  children  ;  because 
we  believe  him  to  be  no  prodigy,  but  a  child  of  good 
abilities,  without  any  peculiar  cleverness.  So  far  from 
making  any  such  claim,  we  must  acknowledge,  that  this 
boy  scarcely  knows  his  letters  ;  and,  that  he  shows  no 
extraordinary  quickness  in  learning  them.  He  is,  how- 
ever, lively  and  obedient ;  indeed,  the  most  lively  chil- 
dren are,  if  well  treated,  usually  the  most  obedient.  The 
names  of  various  objects,  of  common  and  of  uncommon 
use,  are  familiar  to  him  ;  he  has  seen  a  variety  of  tools, 
and  has  been  accustomed  to  handle  a  few  of  them.  In 
short,  in  his  education,  nothing  extraordinary  has  been 
said,  or  taught,  or  done.  Every  governess,  and  every 
mother,  who  acts  as  governess  to  her  own  children,  may 
easily  follow  the  same  course.  Where  mothers  have 
not  time,  and  where  they  cannot  obtain  the  assistance  of 
a  governess,  it  were  to  be  wished,  that  early  schools 
could  be  found  for  early  education.  To  learn  to  read  is 
to  acquire  a  key  to  knowledge  ;  but  alas  !  it  is  a  key, 
that  is  not  always  used  to  advantage.  There  is  not  an 
hour  in  the  day,  when  something  useful  may  not  be 
taught,  before  books  can  be  read,  or  understood.  Perhaps 
parents  may  pity  the  father  and  mother,  in  Harry  and 
Lucy,  as  much  as  they  pity  the  children ;  and  may  con- 
sider them  as  the  most  hard-worked,  and  hard-working 
people,  that  ever  existed,  or  that  were  ever  fabled  to 
exist.  They  may  say,  that  these  children  never  had  a 
moment's  respite,  arid  that  the  poor  father  and  mother 
had  never  any  thing  to  do,  nor  ever  did  any  thing,  but 
attend  to  these  children,  answer  their  questions,  and  pro- 
vide for  their  instruction  or  amusement.  This  view  of 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  143 

•what  is  expected  from  parents  may  alarm  many,  even 
of  those,  who  have  much  zeal  and  ability  in  education 
But  we  beseech  them  not  to  take  this  false  alarm.  Even 
if  they  were  actually  to  do  all,  that  the  father  and  mother 
of  Harry  and  Lucy  are  here  represented  to  have  done, 
they  would  not,  in  practice,  feel  it  so  very  laborious,  or 
find  that  it  takes  up  so  preposterous  a  portion  of  their 
lives,  as  they  might  apprehend.  In  fact,  however,  there 
is  no  necessity  for  parents  doing  all  this  in  any  given 
time,  though  there  was  a  necessity  for  the  authors 
bringing  into  a  small  compass,  in  a  reasonable  number 
of  pages,  a  certain  portion  of  knowledge. 

Be  it  therefore  hereby  declared,  and  be  it  now  and 
henceforward  understood,  by  all  those,  whom  it  may 
concern,  that  fathers  or  mothers  (as  the  case  may  be) 
are  not  expected  to  devote  the  whole  of  their  days,  01 
even  two  hours  out  of  the  four  and  twenty,  to  the  tuition 
or  instruction  of  their  children.  That  no  father  is  ex- 
pected, like  Harry's  father,  to  devote  an  hour  before 
breakfast  to  the  trying  of  experiments  for  his  children. 
That  no  mother  is  required  to  suspend  her  toilette — no 
father  to  delay  shaving — while  their  children  blow  bub- 
bles, or  inquire  into  the  construction  of  bellows,  windmill, 
barometer,  or  pump.  And  be  it  farther  understood,  that 
no  mother  is  required,  like  Lucy's  mother,  to  read  or 
find  every  evening  entertaining  books,  or  passages  from 
books,  for  her  children. 

Provided  always,  that  said  fathers  and  mothers  do,  at 
any  and  all  convenient  times,  introduce  or  suggest,  or 
cause  to  be  introduced  or  suggested  to  their  pupils,  the 
simple  elementary  notions  of  science,  contained  in  the 
following  pages ;  and  provided  always  that  they  do  at  all 
times  associate,  or  cause  to  be  associated,  pleasure  in  the 
minds  of  their  children  with  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 
RICHARD  LOVELL  EDGEWORTH, 
AND  MARIA  EDGEWORTH. 


145 


HARRY  AND   LUCY. 

PART  III. 


IT  was  Lucy's  business  to  waken  her  father 
every  morning.  She  watched  the  clock,  and, 
when  it  was  the  right  time,  she  used  to  go 
softly  into  her  father's  room,  and  to  open  the 
curtain  of  his  bed,  and  to  call  him. 

'  Father  !  father !  itis  time  for  you  to  get  up !' 

Then  she  drew  back  the  window  curtains 
and  opened  the  shutters — and  she  put  every 
thing  ready  for  him  to  dress.  She  liked  to  do 
this  for  her  father,  and  he  liked,  that  she 
should  do  it  for  him  ;  because  the  attending 
upon  him  taught  her  to  be  neat  and  orderly. 
She  and  her  brother  Harry  both  liked  to  be 
in  the  room  with  their  father,  when  he  was 
dressing  ;  because  then  he  had  leisure  to  talk 
to  them.  Every  morning  he  used  to  tell  or 
teach  them  something  that  they  did  not  know 
before. 

One  morning,  at  the  beginning  of  winter, 
when  the  weather  was  cold,  Lucy  said — 

1  It  is  much  colder  in  this  room  to-day,  fa- 
ther, than  it  was  when  you  got  up  yesterday.' 
13 


146  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  O  no  !  I  think  it  is  not  nearly  so  cold  to- 
day as  it  was  yesterday,  when  my  father  was 
dressing,'  said  Harry. 

'  What  do  you  think,  father  T 

Their  father  went  and  looked  at  something, 
that  hung  in  his  window,  and  then  answered — 

'  I  think,  that  it  is  neither  hotter  nor  colder 
in  this  room  to-day  than  it  was  yesterday, 
at  the  time  Avhen  I  was  dressing.' 

'  Are  you  sure,  father  ?'   said  Lucy. 

'  Quite  sure,  my  dear.' 

'  How  can  you  be  quite  sure,  father  ?'  said 
Lucy — '  How  do  you  know  ?' 

'  I  can  tell  how  father  knows,'  cried  Harry 
— '  he  looked  at  the  thermometer.' 

'  But  how  does  he  know  by  looking  at  the 
thermometer  ?'  said  Lucy. 

'  Come  here,  and  I  will  show  you,  for  I 
know,'  cried  Harry — '  Stand  up  on  this  chair, 
beside  me,  and  I  will  show  you  ;  my  uncle 
told  me  about  it  last  summer,  when  I  was 
looking  at  the  thermometer  at  his  house. 

'  Look,  do  you  see  this  glass  tube  ?' 

'  Yes  ;  I  have  seen  that  very  often.' 

1  I  know  that  ;  but  do  you  see  this  part  of 
the  tube,  at  the  top,  seems  to  be  empty  ;  and 
this  part  of  it  here,  at  the  bottom,  and  half 
way  up  the  glass  tube,  is  full  of  something 
white — Do  you  know  what  that  is  ?' 

'  Yes  ;  I  remember  very  well  my  uncle 
told  me,  that  is  quicksilver ;  but  what  then  ?' 

'  Stay,  be  patient,  or  I  cannot  explain  it  to 
you.  Do  you  see  these  little  marks,  these 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  147 

divisions  marked  upon  the  edge  here,  upon 
the  ivory,  by  the  side  of  the  glass  tube  ?' 

<  Yes  :  well  V 

1  And  do  you  see  these  words  printed  ?' 

'  Yes  :  freezing,  temperate,  Hood  /teat,  boil- 
ing-wafer heat — I  have  read  those  words  very 
often,  but  I  don't  know  what  they  mean.' 

'  When  it  is  neither  very  hot  nor  very  cold, 
people  say  it  is  temperate ;  and  then  the 
quicksilver  will  be  just  opposite  to  that  divi- 
sion where  temperate  is  written.  When  it 
freezes,  the  quicksilver  would  be  down  here 
at  the  freezing  point  ;  and,  if  this  thermom- 
eter were  put  into  boiling  water,  the  quicksil- 
ver would  rise  up,  and  it  would  be  just  at 
the  place  where  boiling-water  is  written. 
Blood  heat,  I  believe,  means  the  heat  that 
people's  blood  is  of  generally — I  am  not  sure 
about  that.  But  look,  here  are  the  numbers 
of  the  degrees  of  heat  or  cold.  Boiling- water 
heat  is  212  degrees  :  and  when  it  is  freezing 
it  is  32  degrees.' 

'  And  the  heat  of  this  room  now  is — Look, 
what  is  it,  Lucy  1 

Lucy  said  it  was  above  the  long  line  mark- 
ed 40. 

'  Count  how  many  of  the  little  divisions  it 
is  above  40,'  said  Harry. 

She  counted,  and  said  seven  :  and  her 
father  told  her  to  add  that  number  to  40, 
which  made  47. 

Then  Lucy  asked  how  her  father  had  known 


148  EARLY  LESSONS. 

that  it  was  as  cold,  and  no  colder  in  his  room 
to-day,  than  it  was  yesterday  morning. 

'  Because,  yesterday  morning,  the  quicksil- 
ver rose  just  to  the  same  place,  to  47  degrees, 
as  it  does  to-day.  It  always  rises  or  falls 
with  the  same  degree  of  heat  or  cold,  to 
the  same  place — to  the  same  degree.' 

'  But  look,  look,  it  is  moving !  The  quick- 
silver is  rising,  higher  and  higher,  in  the 
glass  !'  cried  Lucy.  '  Look  !  now  it  is  at 
fifty — fifty-two — fifty-five — ' 

'  Yes  :  do  you  know  the  reason  of  that  V 
said  Harry. 

'  No  ;  1  do  not  know,'  said  Lucy  :  '  for  it 
is  not  in  the  least  warmer  now,  in  this  room, 
I  think,  than  it  was  when  we  first  looked 
at  the  thermometer.' 

'  That  is  true  ;  but  you  have  done  some- 
thing, Lucy,  to  the  thermometer,  that  has 
made  the  quicksilver  rise.' 

'  I ! — What  have  I  done  7 — I  have  not  even 
touched  it  !' 

'  But  you  have  put  your  face  close  to  it, 
and  your  warm  breath  has  warmed  the  glass. 
Now  look,  when  I  put  my  hand,  which  I  have 
just  warmed  at  the  fire,  upon  the  bottom  of 
the  thermometer — upon  this  little  round  ball, 
or  bulb,  where  the  greatest  part  of  the  quick- 
silver is — look,  how  it  rises  in  the  tube  !  and 
now  I  will  carry  the  thermometer  near  the 
fire,  and  you  will  see  how  much  more  the 
quicksilver  will  rise.' 

Lucy  looked  at  it,  arid  she  saw,  that   the 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  149 

quicksilver  rose  in  the  thermometer,  when  it 
was  brought  near  to  the  fire. 

As  Harry  was  putting  it  still  closer  to  the 
fire,  his  father  called  to  him,  and  begged, 
that  he  would  take  care  and  not  to  break  the 
thermometer. 

'  O  yes,  father,  1  will  take  care.  If  you 
will  give  me  leave,  now,  I  will  put  it  into  this 
kettle  of  water,  which  is  on  the  fire,  and  see 
whether  the  water  is  boiling  or  not.  If  it  is 
boiling,  the  quicksilver  will  rise  to  boiling 
water  heat,  will  it  not  ? — I  will  hold  the  ther- 
mometer by  the  string  at  the  top,  so  I  shall 
not  burn  my  fingers.' 

His  father  stood  by,  while  Harry  tried  this 
experiment ;  and  Lucy  saw,  that,  when  the 
water  boiled,  the  quicksilver  rose  to  boiling 
water  heai  ;  that  is,  to  212  degrees. 

Then  Harry  carried  the  thermometer  back 
again  to  the  window,  and  left  it  to  cool  for 
some  minutes  ;  and  they  saw,  that  the  quick- 
silver fell  to  the  place  where  it  had  been 
when  they  first  looked  at  the  thermometer 
this  morning  ;  that  is  to  say,  to  47  degrees. 

'  Now  you  see,'  said  Harry,  'the  use  of  the 
thermometer.  It  shows  exactly  how  hot  or 
how  cold  it  is.' 

'  It  measures  the  degrees  of  heat,'  said  their 
father,  '  and  the  name  thermometer  means 
measurer  of  heat,  from  two  Greek  words  ; 
thermo  means  heat,  meter  means  measure, 
as  you  may  observe  in  the  words  barometer, 
•pyrometer,  hygrometer,  and  many  others.' 


150  EARLY   LESSONS. 

c  But  why,  father,  does  the  quicksilver  rise 
in  the  tube  when  it  is  hot,  and  fall  when  it  is 
cold  ?  I  do  not  understand  why,'  said  Lucy. 

'  That  is  a  sensible  question,'  said  her  father; 
'  and  I  am  not  sure,  that  I  can  answer  it  so 
as  to  make  you  understand  me.  It  has  been 
found,  from  experience,  my  dear,  that  quick- 
silver expands  ;  that  is,  spreads  out — takes 
up  more  room — when  it  is  heated,  than  when 
it  is  cold  :  and  it  always  expands  equally 
when  it  is  in  the  same  heat.  So  that,  by 
knowing  how  much  more  room  it  takes  up, 
for  instance,  when  it  is  held  near  the  fire, 
than  it  did  when  it  was  hanging  in  the  win- 
dow, we  could  know  how  much  greater  the 
heat  is  near  the  fire,  than  at  the  window — 
Do  you  understand  me,  Lucy,  my  dear  7' 

'  Yes,  father, — I  think  I  do.  You  say,  that, 

when  the  quicksilver  is  heated,  it 1  forget 

the  word ' 

'  Expands, ,'  cried  Harry. 

'  Yes,  expands — When  quicksilver  is  heat- 
ed, it  expands,  father.' 

'  But  what  do  you  mean  by  expands,  my 
little  girl  ?' 

'  It  spreads  out  every  way — its  size  increa- 
ses  it  takes  up  more  room.' 

'  Very  well — And  what  then  ?' 

1  Why  then — as  it  expands  when  it  is  heat- 
ed, people  can  tell,  by  seeing  or  measuring 
the  size  of  the  quicksilver,  how  hot  it  is.' 

'  True — But  how  do  you  think  they  know 
exactly  how  much  it  increases  in  size  or  bulk. 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  151 

when  it  is  heated  to  different  degrees  of  heat  ? 
— How  do  they  measure  and  see  at  once  the 
measure  of  this  ?' 

'  With  a  pair  of  compasses,  father,'  said 
Lucy. 

'  Look  at  this  little  ball,  or  globe  of  quick- 
silver,' said  her  father,  pointing  to  a  little 
ball  of  quicksilver  in  the  glass,  at  the  bottom 
of  the  thermometer.  '  Would  it  not  be  diffi- 
cult to  measure  this  with  a  pair  of  compasses 
every  time  you  apply  heat  to  it  ?' 

'  That  would  be  difficult  to  be  sure,'  said 
Lucy. 

'  There  must  be  some  other  way — Some 
way  too  that  it  can  be  measured,  without  ta- 
King  the  quicksilver  out  of  the  glass  every 
time.' 

1  I  know  the  way  !'  cried  Harry. 

'  Don't  speak — don't  tell  her — let  your  sis- 
ter think,  and  find  out  for  herself.  And  now 
1  must  shave  ;  and  do  not  not  either  of  you 
talk  to  me,  till  I  have  done.' 

Whilst  her  father  was  shaving,  Lucy  look- 
ed at  the  thermometer,  and  considered  about 
it ;  and  she  observed,  that  the  thin,  tall  line, 
or  column  of  quicksilver,  in  the  little  glass 
tube,  rose  from  the  bulb,  or  globe  of  quicksil- 
ver, at  the  bottom  of  the  thermometer  —  and, 
when  she  put  her  warm  hand  upon  this  bulb, 
the  quicksilver  rose  in  the  tube. 

'  I  know  it  now  !'  cried  Lucy,  '  but  I  must 
not  tell  it,  till  father  has  done  shaving,  lest  I 
should  make  him  cut  himself.' 


152 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


As  soon  as  father  had  done  shaving,  Lucy, 
who  had  stood  patiently  at  his  elbow,  stretch- 
ed out  her  hand,  and  put  the  thermometer 
before  his  eyes. 

'  Here,  father  !  now  I  will  show  you.' 

1  Not  so  near,  my  dear — do  not  put  it  so 
close  to  my  eyes  ;  for  I  cannot  see  it,  when  it 
is  held  very  near  to  me,'  said  her  father. 

'  There,  father  ;  you  can  see  it  now,'  said 
Lucy,  '  cannot  you  1  and  you  see  the  quick- 
silver, in  this  little  glass  globe,  at  the  bottom 
of  the  thermometer.' 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  153 

'  Yes  ;  I  see  it,'  said  her  father. 

'  When  it  is  heated,  and  when  it  expands, 
continued  Lucy,  '  it  must  have  more  room,  and 
it  cannot  get  out  at  the  bottom,  or  sides,  or  any 
way,  but  up  this  little  glass  tube.  There  is 
an  opening,  you  see,  from  the  uppermost  part 
of  that  little  globe,  into  this  glass  tube.' 

c  Very  well,'  said  her  father  — '  go  on,  my 
dear.' 

'  And,  when  the  quicksilver  is  made  hot,  and 
hotter,  it  rises  high,  and  higher,  in  this  tube, 
because  it  wants  more  and  more  room  ;  and 
the  height  it  rises  to,  show  how  hot  it  is,  be- 
cause that  is  just  the  measure  of  how  much  the 
quicksilver  has  expanded — has  grown  larger. 
And,  by  the  words  that  are  written  here — and 
by  these  little  lines— these  degrees,  I  believe, 
you  call  them — you  can  know,  and  tell  peo- 
ple exactly  how  much  the  quicksilver  rises  or 
falls — and  that  shows  how  hot  it  is.' 

'  Pretty  well  explained,  Lucy — I  think  you 
understand  it.' 

'  But  one  thing  she  does  not  know,'  said 
Harry,  '  that,  in  making  a  thermometer,  the  air 
must  be  first  driven  out  of  the  little  tube,  and 
the  glass  must  be  quite  closed  at  both  ends,  so 
as  to  keep  out  the  air.  My  uncle  told  me  this 
— and  now,  father,'  continued  Harry,  '  will 
you  tell  me  something  about  the  barometer — 
I  know,  that  it  is  not  the  same  as  the  ther- 
mometer ;  but  I  do  not  know  the  difference — 
Father,  will  you  explain  it  to  me  ?' 

'  Not  now — You  have  had  quite  enough  for 


154  EARLY    LESSONS. 

this  morning,  and  so  have  I.  I  must  make 
haste  and  finish  dressing,  and  go  to  breakfast.' 

'  Yes  ;  for  mother  is  ready,  I  am  sure,'  cri- 
ed Lucy.  '  Here  are  your  boots,  father.' 

'  And  here  is  your  coat,'  said  Harry. 

'  Father,  to-morrow  morning,  will  you  let 
us  blow  bubbles,  when  you  have  done  sha- 
ving ?'  said  Lucy. 

'  No,  no  ;  I  want  to  hear  about  the  barom- 
eter to-morrow,'  said  Harry. 

'  We  will  settle  this  when  to-morrow  comes ; 
and  now  let  us  go  to  breakfast,'  said  their 
father. 


At  breakfast,  as  their  father  was  looking  at 
the  newspaper,  he  found  an  advertisement, 
which  he  read  aloud.  It  said,  that  a  man  had 
brought  an  elephant  to  a  town  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, which  he  would  show  to  any  person, 
who  would  pay  a  shilling  a  piece  for  seeing  it ; 
and,  that  the  elephant  was  to  be  seen  every 
day,  for  a  week,  between  the  hours  of  twelve 
and  three. 

Harry  and  Lucy  wished  very  much  to  see 
an  elephant ;  they  said,  that  they  would  rather 
see  it,  than  any  other  animal,  because  they  had 
heard  and  read  many  curious  anecdotes  of  el- 
ephants. Their  father  said,  that  he  would  take 
them,  this  morning,  to  the  neighboring  town, 
to  see  this  elephant.  Harry  immediately  went 
for  his  '  Sandford  and  Merton,'  and  Lucy 
jumped  from  her  chair,  and  ran  for  her  '  In- 
stinct Displayed.'1  And  they  each  found,  in 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  155 

the^e  books,  anecdotes,  or  stories  of  elephants, 
which  they  were  eager  to  read  to  their  father 
and  mother.  Lucy  had  not  quite  finished 
breakfast,  so  Harry  began  first ;  and  he  read 
the  history  of  the  tailor,  who  pricked  the  ele- 
phant's trunk  with  his  needle  ;  and  he  read 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  elephant  punished 
him.  And  he  read  the  account  of  the  enraged 
elephant,  who,  when  his  driver's  child  was 
thrown  in  his  path,  stopped  short,  in  the  midst 
of  his  fury ;  and,  instead  of  trampling  upon  the 
infant,  or  hurting  him,  looked  at  him  seemingly 
with  compassion,  grew  calm,  and  suffered  him- 
self to  be  led,  without  opposition,  to  his  stable. 

When  Harry  had  finished  reading, Lucy  said 
that  she  liked  these  stories  of  the  elephant  ; 
but  that  she  had  read  that  part  of  Sandford  and 
Merton  so  often,  that  she  had  it  almost  by 
heart.  '  But  now,'  said  she,  '  I  will  read  you 
something,  that  will,  I  hope,  be  quite  new,  even 
to  father  and  mother — unless  they  have  read 
my  Mrs.  Wakefield's  '  Instinct  Displayed.' 

Then  Lucy  read  an  account  of  Rayoba's 
favorite  elephants,  who  were  almost  starved  by 
their  keepers,  before  it  was  discovered  how 
their  keepers  cheated  them  of  their  food.  When 
the  prince  saw  that  his  elephants  grew  thin 
and  weak,  he  pnpointed  persons  to  see  them 
fed  every  day  •  md  these  people  saw  the  keep- 
ers give  the  el  ,)hants  the  food,  of  which  they 
were  most  fon  ,  rich  balls,  called  massaulla, 
composed  of  spices,  sugar,  butter,&c.  The  ele- 
phants took  these  balls  up  in  their  trunks  and 


156  EARLY    LESSONS. 

put  them  into  their  mouths,  in  the  presence  of 
the  persons,  who  were  to  see  them  fed;  but  stil1 
the  elephants,  though  they  seemed  to  eat  sc 
much  every  day,  continued  thin  and  weak. 

'  At  length,  the  cheat  was  discovered,  and 
it  shows  the  extraordinary  influence  the  keep- 
ers had  obtained  over  these  docile  animals. 
They  had  taught  them,  in  the  inspectors'  pres- 
ence, to  receive  the  balls,  and  to  put  them  into 
their  mouths,  with  their  trunk,  but  to  abstain 
from  eating  them  ;  and  these  tractable  crea- 
tures actually  had  that  command  over  them- 
selves, that  they  received  this  food,  of  which 
they  they  are  so  remarkably  fond,  and  placed 
it  in  their  mouths,  but  never  chewed  it;  and  the 
balls  remained  untouched,  until  the  inspectors 
(that  is,  the  people  who  had  been  appointed  to 
see  them  fed)  withdrew.  The  elephants  then 
took  them  out  carefully,  with  their  trunks, 
and  presented  them  to  the  keepers ;  accepting 
such  a  share  only  as  they  were  pleased  to 
allow  them.' 

Lucy  rejoiced  at  finding,  that  this  curious 
anecdote  was  new  to  her  brother,  and  even  to 
her  father  and  mother.  After  they  had  talked 
about  it  for  some  time,  and  had  admired  the 
docility  of  these  poor  elephants,  Lucy  told  what 
she  had  read  of  another  elephant,  who  used  to 
gather  mangoes  for  his  master,  and  to  come 
every  morning  to  his  master's  tent,  when  he 
was  at  breakfast,  and  wait  for  a  bit  of  sugai 
candy.  Lucy's  mother  then  desired  her  to 
bring  from  the  library  table  the  book,  which 


HARRY    AND    LUCY  157 

she  had  been  reading  yesterday  evening,  Mrs 
Graham's  Account  of  her  Residence  in  India. 
When  Lucy  had  brought  the  book,  her  mother 
showed  her  an  account  of  an  elephant,  who 
had  saved  the  life  of  an  officer,  who  fell  under 
the  wheel  of  a  carriage  ;  and  a  description  of 
the  manner  in  which  elephants  are  tamed  ; 
she  told  Lucy,  that  she  and  Harry,  if  they 
chose  it, might  read  these  passages.  They  liked 
particularly  to  read,  at  this  time,  accounts  of 
this  animal,  that  they  might  know  as  much  as 
they  could  of  his  history,  before  their  father 
should  take  them  to  see  the  elephant.  They 
were  happy,  reading  together  what  their  mo- 
ther had  given  them  leave  to  read  of  this  book ; 
and  then  they  looked  over  the  prints,  and,  by 
the  time  they  had  done  this,  their  mother  call- 
ed Lucy  to  her  dressing  room,  to  write  and  to 
cast  up  sums,  and  Harry  went  to  his  father's 
study,  to  learn  his  Latin  lesson. 

Harry  and  Lucy  regularly  employed  them- 
selves, for  about  an  hour,  every  morn- 
ing, after  breakfast;  and,  in  general,  they 
attended  entirely  to  what  they  were  do- 
ing, while  they  were  learning  whatever 
they  had  to  learn  —  therefore  they  learned 
well  and  quickly.  Lucy  was  learning  to 
write,  and  she  wrote  about  two  lines  carefully 
every  day  ;  always  trying  to  mend  each  day, 
faults  of  which  her  mother  had  told  her  the 
preceding  day.  She  was  also  learning  arith- 
metic ;  and  she  could,  with  the  help  of  a  dic- 
tionary, make  out  the  meaning  of  half  a  page 


158  EARLY    LESSONS. 

of  French,  every  day,  without  being  much 
tired.  She  knew  that  nothing  can  be  learn- 
ed without  taking  some  trouble ;  but  when  she 
succeeded  in  doing  better  and  better,  this  made 
her  feel  pleased  with  herself,  and  paid  her  for 
the  pains  she  took.  She  now  read  English  so 
well,  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  her  to  read ;  and 
to  her  mother,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  hear  her. 
So  the  reading  English  was  always  kept  for 
the  last  of  her  morning  employments.  She 
was,  at  this  time,  reading  such  parts  of  Even- 
ings at  Home,  as  she  could  understand.  This 
day,  she  read  the  '  Transmigrations  of  Indur  ;' 
and,  after  she  had  read  this  in  '  Evenings  at 
Home,'  her  mother  let  her  read  a  little  poem, 
on  the  same  subject,  which  was  written  by  a 
young  gentleman,  a  relation  of  hers.  Lucy 
particularly  liked  the  following  description  of 
the  metamorphosis,  or  change,  of  the  bee  into 
an  elephant — 

'  Now  the  lithe  trunk,  that  sipped  the  woodland  rose, 
With  strange  increase,  a  huge  proboscis  grows  : 
His  downy  legs,  his  feather-cinctured  thighs, 
Swell  to  the  elephant's  enormous  size. 
Before  his  tusks  the  bending  forests  yield  ; 
Beneath  his  footstep  shakes  th'  astonished  field  ; 
With  eastern  majesty  he  moves  along  ; 
Joins  in  unwieldy  sport  the  monster  throng. 
Roaming,  regardless  of  the  cultured  soil, 
The  wanton  herd  destroy  a  nation's  toil. 
In  swarms  the  peasants  crowd,  a  clamorous  band, 
Raise  the  fierce  shout,  and  snatch  the  flaming  brand  , 
Loud  tramp  the  soared  invaders  o'er  the  plain, 
And  reach  the  coverts  of  their  woods  again.' 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  159 

By  the  time  Lucy  had  finished  reading,  and 
that  she  had  worked  a  little,  and  had  copied 
the  outline  of  a  foot  and  of  a  hand,  her  mother 
told  her  to  put  by  all  her  books,  work,  and 
drawings,  and  to  get  ready  to  go  out ;  for  it 
was  now  the  hour  when  her  father  had  said, 
that  he  should  take  Lucy  and  her  brother  to 
see  the  elephant. 


Harry  and  Lucy  walked  with  their  father  to 
the  neighboring  town,  which  was  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  distant  from  their  home ;  they  went, 
by  pleasant  paths,  across  the  fields.  It  was 
frosty  weather,  so  the  paths  were  hard  ;  and 
the  children  had  fine  running  and  jumping, 
and  they  made  themselves  warm  all  over. 
When  she  was  very  warm,  Lucy  said — 

'  Feel  my  hand,  father ;  I  am  sure,  if  I  was 
to  take  the  thermometer  in  my  hand  now,  the 
quicksilver  would  rise  finely.  How  high, 
father  1 — to  how  many  degrees  do  you  think 
it  would  rise  V 

'  I  think,'  answered  her  father,  '  to  about  sev- 
enty degrees  of  Fahrenheit's  thermometer.' 

{  Fahrenheit's  thermometer  !  Why  do  you 
call  it  Fahrenheit's  thermometer?  I  thought  it 
was  your  thermometer,  father  !'  said  Lucy. 

'  So  it  is,  my  dear  ;  that  is,  it  belongs  to  me, 
but  it  is  called  Fahrenheit's,  because  a  person 
of  that  name  first  divided  the  scale  of  the  ther- 
mometer in  the  manner  in  which  you  saw 
that  of  mine  divided.  There  are  other  ther- 


160  EARLY   LESSONS. 

mometers,  divided  in  a  different  manner;  some 
of  these  are  called  Reaumur's  thermometers, 
because  they  were  first  divided  so  by  a  per- 
son of  the  name  of  Reaumur.' 

'  But,  father,  will  you  tell  me,'  said  Harry, 
'  something  about  the  barometer  ?' 

His  father  stopped  him.  '  I  cannot  tell  you 
any  thing  about  that  now,  my  dear  :  run  on, 
or  we  shall  not  have  time  to  see  the  elephant ; 
for  the  keeper  of  the  elephant  shows  him  only 
till  three  o'clock  each  day.'  Harry  and  Lucy 
ran  on,  as  fast  as  they  could,  and  they  were 
quite  in  time  to  see  the  elephant. 

They  were  surprised  at  the  first  sight  of  this 
animal.  Though  they  had  read  descriptions, 
and  had  seen  prints  of  elephants,  yet  they  had 
not  formed  an  exact  idea  of  the  reality.  Lucy 
said  that  the  elephant  appeared  much  larger  ; 
Harry  said  it  was  smaller,  than  what  he  had 
expected  to  see.  Lucy  said,  that,  till  she  saw 
it,  she  had  no  idea  of  the  colour,  nor  of  the 
wrinkled  appearance  of  the  elephant's  skin. 
The  keeper  of  this  elephant  ordered  him  to 
pick  up  a  little  bit  of  money  which  he  held 
upon  the  palm  of  his  hand.  Immediately  the 
obedient  animal  picked  it  up  with  the  end  of 
his  proboscis,  and  gave  it  to  his  keeper.  Lucy 
said,  she  had  never  had  a  clear  notion  how  it 
moved  its  trunk,  or  proboscis,  nor  how  it  could 
pick  up  such  small  things  with  it  till  she  saw 
it  done.  Harry  said,  that  he  had  never  had 
an  idea  of  the  size  or  shape  of  the  elephant's 
feet,  till  he  saw  them.  Lucy  said,  the  prints 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  161 

had  given  her  no  idea  of  the  size  of  its  ears, 
or  of  the  breadth  of  its  back.  Both  she  and 
her  brother  agreed,  that  it  is  useful  and  agree- 
able to  see  real  things  arid  live  animals,  as 
well  as  to  read  or  hear  descriptions  of  them. 

The  keeper  of  this  elephant  was  a  little 
weak-looking  man.  Harry  and  Lucy  admired 
the  obedience  and  gentleness  of  this  powerful 
animal,  who  did  whatever  his  master  desired, 
though  sometimes  it  appeared  to  be  inconve- 
nient and  painful  to  it  to  obey.  For  instance, 
when  the  elephant  was  ordered  to  lie  down,  he 
bent  his  fore  knees  and  knelt  on  them  ;  though 
it  seemed  to  be  difficult  and  disagreeable  to  it 
to  put  itself  into  this  posture,  and  to  rise  again 
from  its  knees.  Lucy  asked  what  this  elephant 
lived  upon,  and  how  much  he  eat  every  day. 
The  man  said,  that  he  fed  the  elephant  with 
rice  arid  with  vegetables,  and  he  showed  a 
bucket,  which,  he  said,  held  several  quarts — 
this  bucketful  the  elephant  eat  every  day. 
There  was,  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  a  heap 
of  raw  carrots,  of  which,  the  keeper  said,  the 
elephant  was  fond  :  he  held  a  carrot  to  the 
animal,  who  took  it  gently,  arid  eat  it. 

When  Lucy  saw  how  gently  the  elephant 
took  the  carrot,  she  wished  to  give  it  one  with 
her  own  hand  ;  and  the  man  told  her  that  she 
might.  But  when  Lucy  saw  the  elephant's 
great  trunk  turning  towards  the  carrot,  which 
she  held  out  to  him,  she  was  frightened  ;  she 
twitched  back  her  hand,  and  pulled  the  carrot 
14 


162 


EARLY   LESSOWS. 


away  from  the  elephant,  just  as  he  was  going 
to  take  it.  This  disappointment  made  him 
very  angry  ;  and  he  showed  his  displeasure, 
by  blowing  air  through  his  proboscis,  with  a 
sort  of  snorting  noise,  which  frightened  Lucy. 
Harry,  who  was  more  courageous,  and  who 
was  proud  to  show  his  courage,  took  the  car- 
rot, marched  up  to  the  elephant,  and  gave  it 
to  him.  The  animal  was  pacified  directly, 
and  gently  took  the  carrot  with  his  proboscis, 
turned  back  the  proboscis,  and  put  the  carrot 
into  his  mouth.  Harry,  turning  to  his  father, 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  163 

with  a  look  of  some  self-satisfaction,  said,  that 
'  the  great  Roman  general,  Fabricius,  was  cer- 
tainly a  very  brave  man,  not  to  have  been  ter- 
rified by  the  dreadful  noise  made  by  king 
Pyrrhus's  elephant,  especially  as  Fabricius 
had  never  seen  an  elephant  before.'  Lucy  did 
not  know  what  Harry  alluded  to,  or  what  he 
meant ;  because  she  had  not  yet  read  the  Ro- 
man history.  He  said,  that  he  would  show 
her  the  passage  in  the  Roman  history,  as  soon 
as  they  were  at  home.  And  now,  having  look- 
ed at  the  elephant,  as  long  as  they  wished  to 
look  at  him,  and  having  asked  all  the  ques- 
tions they  wanted  to  ask,  they  went  away  ; 
they  were  glad  to  get  out  into  the  fresh  air 
again,  for  the  stable,  in  which  the  elephant  liv 
ed,  had  a  very  disagreeable  smell.  Lucy 
pitied  this  animal  for  being  kept  cooped  up,  as 
she  said,  in  such  a  small  room,  instead  of  being 
allowed  to  go  about,  and  to  enjoy  his  liberty. 
Harry  then  thought  of  horses,  who  live  shut 
up  a  great  part  of  their  lives  in  stables.  He 
asked  his  father,  whether  he  thought,  that 
horses,  who  have  been  tamed,  or  broke  in  as  it 
is  called,  and  who  are  kept  in  stables  and  taken 
care  of  by  men,  are  happier  or  less  happy  than 
wild  horses.  His  father  said,  he  thought  this 
must  depend  upon  the  manner,  in  which  the 
horses  are  fed  and  treated  :  he  observed,  that 
if  horses,  who  are  tamed  by  man,  are  constant- 
ly well  fed,  and  are  protected  from  the  inclem- 
encies of  the  weather,  and  are  only  worked 
with  moderation,  it  is  probable  that  they  are 


164.  EARLY    LESSONS. 

happy  ;  because,  in  these  circumstances,  they 
are  usually  in  good  health  and  fat,  and  theii 
skins  look  sleek,  smooth,  and  shining.  From 
these  signs,  we  may  guess  that  they  are 
happy;  but,  as  they  cannot  speak,  and  tell 
us  what  they  feel,  we  cannot  be  certain. 

During  the  walk  home,  Harry  and  Lucy 
took  notice  of  many  things.  There  was 
scarcely  an  hour  in  their  lives,  in  which  they 
did  not  observe  and  learn  something.  One 
subject  of  observation  and  of  conversation  led 
to  another  ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  give  an 
account  of  all  these  things. 

When  they  got  home,  Lucy  reminded  her 
brother  of  his  promise  about  Fabricius  and 
the  elephant  :  he  showed  her  the  passage  in 
the  Roman  history,  which  he  had  read  ;  and 
that  evening  Lucy  asked  her  mother,  if  she 
might  read  the  whole  of  her  brother's  Roman 
history.  Her  mother  gave  her  a  little  history 
of  Rome,*  with  sixty-four  prints  in  it  ;  and 
she  told  Lucy,  that,  when  she  knew  all  the 
facts,  told  in  this  history,  it  would  be  time 
enough  to  read  another,  which  might  tell  her 
more  particulars  of  the  Roman  history. 


The  next  day  being  Sunday,  Harry  and 
Lucy  went,  with  their  father  and  mother,  to 
church.  The  morning  lesson ,  for  this  day,  was 
one  of  the  chapters  of  the  Bible,  which  con- 
tains the  history  of  Joseph  and  his  brethren 

*  Probably  Mrs.  Trimmer's. 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  105 

Harry  and  Lucy  listened  attentively,  and 
when  they  came  home  from  church,  they  told 
their  father,  they  wished  very  much,  to  know 
the  end  of  that  history,  of  which  they  had 
heard  the  beginning  read  by  the  clergyman, 
at  church.  Their  father  took  down,  from  his 
bookcase,  the  large  family  Bible,  and  he  read 
the  whole  of  the  history  of  Joseph  and  his 
brethren,  with  which  the  children  were  very 
much  interested  and  touched. 

In  the  evening,  they  each  read  to  their 
mother  one  of  Mrs.  Barbauld's  '  Hymns  in 
Prose  for  Children.'  Harry  and  Lucy  loved 
these  hymns,  and  they  showed  their  mother 
the  passages,  that  they  liked,  particularly  in 
those,  which  they  read  this  day. 

'  Mother,  this  is  the  passage,  which  I  liked 
the  best,'  said  Lucy 

'  Look  at  the  thorns,  that  are  white  with 
blossoms,  and  the  flowers,  that  cover  the  fields 
and  the  plants,  that  are  trodden  in  the  green 
path  :  the  hand  of  man  hath  not  planted 
them  ;  the  sower  hath  not  scattered  the  seeds 
from  his  hand,  nor  the  gardener  digged  a 
place  for  them  with  his  spade. 

'  Some  grow  on  steep  rocks,  where  no  man 
can  climb  ;  in  shaking  bogs,  and  deep  forests, 
and  desert  islands  :  they  spring  up  every 
where,  and  cover  the  bosom  of  the  whole  earth. 

'  Who  causeth  them  to  grow  every  where, 
and  giveth  them  colors  and  smells,  and  spread- 
eth  out  their  thin  transparent  leaves  1 

'  How  doth  the  rose  draw  its  crimson  from 


166  EARLY    LESSONS. 

the  dam  brown  earth,  or  the  lily  its  shining 
white  ?  How  can  a  small  seed  contain  a  plant  7 

'  Lo  !  these  are  a  part  of  his  works,  and  a 
little  portion  of  his  wonders. 

'  There  is  little  need,  that  I  should  tell  you 
of  God,  for  every  thing  speaks  of  Him.' 

Harry  was  silent  for  a  moment,  after  he  had 
heard  these  passages  read  again,  and  then  he 
said — '  I  like  that  very  much  indeed,  Lucy  : 
but  now  let  me  read  to  you,  mother,  what  I 
like  better  still.' 

'  Negro  woman,  who  sittest  pining  in  captiv- 
ity, and  weepest  over  thy  sick  child  ;  though 
no  one  seeth  thee,  God  seeth  thee ;  though  no 
one  pitieth  thee,  God  pitieth  thee  :  raise  thy 
voice,  forlorn  and  abandoned  one  :  call  upon 
Him,  from  amidst  thy  bonds,  for  assuredly 
he  will  hear  thee. 

'  Monarch,  that  rulest  over  a  hundred  states, 
whose  frown  is  terrible  as  death,  and  whose 
armies  cover  the  land,  boast  not  thyself,  as 

though  there  were  none  above  thee God 

is  above  thee  ;  his  powerful  arm  is  always 
over  thee  !  and,  if  thou  doest  ill,  assuredly 
He  will  punish  thee.' 


The  next  morning,  when  Harry  and  Lucy 
went  into  their  father's  room,  Harry  drew  back 
the  curtain  of  his  father's  bed,  and  said— 

'  Father,  you  promised  to  tell  me  something 
about  the  barometer,  and  it  is  time  to  get  up.' 

His  father  answered,  without  opening  his 
eyes — 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  167 

'  Do  you  see  two  tobacco  pipes  ?' 
Harry  and  Lucy  laughed  :  for  they  thought 
that  their  father  was  dreaming  of  tobacco 
pipes,  and  talking  of  them  in  his  sleep.  Lucy 
recollected,  that  her  mother  said,  he  had  been 
writing  letters  late  the  night  before,  and  she 
said  to  her  brother — 

'  We  had  better  let  him  sleep  a  little  longei'.' 
'  Yes,  do  my  dear,'  said  her  father,  in  a 
sleepy  voice  :  '  arid  take  the  two  tobacco  pipes, 
and  my  soap,  and  my  basin,  and  the  hot  wa- 
ter, Lucy,  that  you  brought  for  my  shaving, 
and  you  may  blow  soap  bubbles,  in  the  next 
room,  for  half  an  hour  :  and,  at  the  end  of 
that  time,  come  and  waken  me  again.' 

Harry  looked  about  the  room,  and  he  found, 
on  his  father's  table,  the  two  tobacco  pipes, 
which  he  had  been  so  good  as  to  put  there 
the  night  before.  Taking  care  to  move  softly, 
and  not  to  make  any  noise,  that  should  disturb 
their  father,  they  carried  out  of  the  room  with 
them  the  hot  water,  basin,  soap,  and  tobacco 
pipes.  During  the  next  half  hour,  they  were 
so  happy,  blowing  bubbles,  watching  them 
swell  and  mount  in  the  air,  and  float,  and 
burst,  trying  which  could  blow  the  largest 
bubbles,  or  the  bubbles  which  would  last  the 
longest,  that  the  half  hour  was  gone  before 
they  thought  that  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had 
passed.  But  Lucy  heard  the  clock  strike,  and 
immediately  she  knew,  that  the  half  hour 
was  over,  and  that  it  was  time  to  go  and  wa- 
ken her  father  again.  So  she  went  directly 


168 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


for  she  was  very  punctual.  Her  father  was 
now  awake,  and  he  got  up  ;  and,  while  he 
was  getting  up,  she  hegan  to  talk  to  him  of 
the  pretty  soap  bubbles,  which  they  had  been 
blowing ;  but  Harry  was  impatient  to  ask  his 
father  something  about  the  barometer. 

'  Now,  Lucy,  let  us  have  done  with  the  soap 
bubbles,'  said  Harry,  '  I  want  to- learn  some- 
thing seriously — father,  I  want  to  understand 
the  barometer  perfectly,  before  I  go,  next 
week,  to  my  uncle's,  that  he  may  find  I  am 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  169 

not  so  ignorant,  as  I  was  the  last  time  he  saw 
me  :  and  besides,  my  cousin  Frederic  will  be 
at  home,  and  he  is  only  a  year  or  two  older 
than  I  am  :  and  my  uncle  says  that  Frederic 
understands  the  use  of  all  the  instruments  in 
his  room — but  I  did  not  understand  even  the 
barometer — father,  will  you  explain  it  to  me 
this  morning  ?' 

'  Just  let  me  first  show  father  this  one  large 
bubble,'  said  Lucy,  '  and  then  you  may  go 
to  the  barometer.' 

Lucy  blew  a  large  bubble  from  the  end  of 
her  tobacco  pipe  ;  but  it  burst  before  it  had 
risen  far.  Then  Lucy  put  by  the  tobacco 
pipe  and  said — 

'  Now  I  will  not  interrupt  you  any  more 
with  my  bubbles.' 

'  But  perhaps,  my  dear  Lucy,'  said  her 
father,  '  the  bubbles  may  lead  us  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  some  things  necessary  to  be  known, 
before  I  can  explain  a  barometer.  Do  you 
know  what  a  bubble  is  ?' 

'  O  yes,  father,'  said  she ;  '  I  remember  you 
told  me,  a  great  while  ago, — a  bubble  is ' 

She  was  forced  to  pause,  to  think,  howev- 
er, before  she  could  describe  it. 

'  I  believe,  it  is  air,  blown  into  a  round  case, 
or  globe,  of  something — a  soap  bubble  is  air 
in  a  round  case  of  soap  and  water — but,  father, 
I  have  often  'seen  bubbles  on  the  top  of  water ; 
they  are  only  air  and  water.  But  how  can 
the  case  be  made  of  water  ?  I  can  conceive, 
15 


170  EARLY    LESSONS. 

that  a  globe  of  soap  and  water  might  stick 
together,  because  I  know,  that  soap  is  sticky ; 
but  I  wonder  at  water's  sticking  together,  so 
as  to  make  a  hollow  globe.' 

'  When  you  look  at  water,'  said  her  father, 
'  or  at  quicksilver,  you  perceive  that  they  aro 
very  different,  not  only  in  colour,  but  in  their 
other  properties.' 

'  Properties,  father,'  said  Lucy — '  that  is  a 
word  of  which  you  taught  me  the  meaning — 
properties  are  what  belong  to  things.' 

'  One  of  the  properties  of  water  is  fluidity ^ 
said  her  father — '  sand,  on  the  contrary,  is  not 
fluid.  Sand  may  be  poured  out,  like  water 
or  quicksilver ;  but  the  grains,  of  which  it  is 
composed,  are  separate,  and  have  no  visible 
attraction  for  each  other.  The  parts  of  water 
cohere,  or  stick  together,  but  slightly  ;  a  small 
force  divides  them  ;  but  still  they  have  an 
obvious  tenacity.' 

'  Father  !  what  is  obvious  tenacity? — tenaci- 
ty, I  know,  is  stickiness — but  what  does 
obvious  mean  ?' 

'  Easily  seen — plain — easy  to  be  perceived. 
By  obvious  tenacity  I  mean  tenacity  which 
you  can  easily  perceive  ;  though  nothing 
viscid,  or  sticky,  is  added  to  the  water,  you 
see  that  water  can  be  spread  by  air,  so  as  to 
form  the  outer  case  of  a  bubble.' 

'  But  when  soap  is  added  to  'water,'  said 
Lucy,  '  larger  bubbles  can  be  made.' 

'  Yes— Why  ?' 

'  Because  the  soap  makes  the  parts  of  the 


HARRY    AND  LUCY.  171 

water  stick  together  more  strongly  ;  but,  fa- 
ther,' continued  Lucy,  '  what  is  the  reason  that 
a  bubble  bursts  ?  for,  if  the  outside  case  is 
strong  enough  to  hold  it  at  first,  why  should 
not  that  hold  it  as  well  always  7  yet  at  last 
it  bursts — what  is  the  reason  of  this  ?' 

Her  father  said,  that  he  believed  there  were 
several  causes,  which  might  make  a  bubble 
burst ;  and  that  he  was  not  sure,  either  that 
he  knew  all  of  them,  or  that  he  could  explain 
them  all,  so  as  to  make  Lucy  understand  them. 
He  mentioned  some  of  the  causes ;  for  instance, 
the  wind  blowing  against  the  bubble  might 
break  it ;  or  the  heat  might  expand  the  air 
withinside  of  i  t,  and  burst  it ;  or,  at  other  times, 
some  of  the  water,  of  which  the  outer  skin  ol 
the  bubble  is  made,  may  run  down  from  the 
top  to  the  bottom,  till  it  makes  the  bottom  so 
heavy,  and  the  top  so  thin,  that  it  bursts.' 

Here  Harry  was  heard  to  utter  a  deep 
sigh.  His  father  smiled,  and  said — 

'  Poor  Harry  thinks  we  shall  never  get  to 
the  barometer  :  but  have  patience,  my  boy, 
we  have  not  gone  so  far  out  of  the  way,  as  you 
think  we  have.  Now,  Harry,  run  to  my 
work-shop,  and  bring  me  a  bladder,  which 
you  will  find  hanging  up  near  the  door.  And, 
Lucy,  run  for  the  little  pair  of  bellows  which 
is  in  your  mother's  dressing  room.' 

Harry  brought  the  bladder,  and  Lucy 
brought  the  bellows.  They  were  curious  to  see 
what  their  father  was  going  to  show  them ; 
but,  just  then,  the  breakfast  bell  rang.  Their 


172  EARLY    LESSONS. 

father  could  not  show  or  tell  them  any  thing 
more,  that  morning,  for  he  was  forced  to  finish 
dressing  himself  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  the 
children  helped  him  eagerly.  One  reason, 
why  they  liked  to  come  to  their  father  every 
morning,  and  to  be  taught  by  him,  was,  that 
he  never  tired  them  by  forcing  them  to  attend 
for  a  long  time  together. 

Ten  minutes  at  a  time  he  thought  quite  suf- 
ficient, at  their  age  ;  but  then  he  required  com- 
plete attention.  Whenever  he  found,  that  they 
were  not  thinking  of  what  he  was  teaching 
them,  he  would  not  say  any  more  to  them — 
he  sent  them  away.  For  this  they  were  al- 
ways sorry  :  and  this  punishment,  or  rather 
this  privation,  was  sufficient  to  make  them 
attend  better  next  day.  It  seldom  happened, 
that  they  were  sent  out  of  their  father's  room. 
Though  he  never  taught  them  in  plat/,  as  it  is 
called,  yet  he  made  what  they  learned  as  in- 
teresting to  them  as  he  could  ;  and  he  made 
work  and  play  come  one  after  the  other,  so  as 
to  refresh  them.  He  and  their  mother  took 
care,  that  Harry  and  Lucy  should  neither  be 
made  to  dislike  knowledge,  by  having  tire- 
some, long  tasks,  nor  rendered  idle,  and  un- 
able to  command  their  attention,  by  having 
too  much  amusement. 

Spoiled  children  are  never  happy.  Between 
breakfast  and  dinner,  they  ask  a  hundred 
times,  '  What  o'clock  is  it !'  and  wish  for  the 
time  when  dinner  will  be  ready,  or  when  pud- 
ding or  apple-pie  will  come.  And,  when  din- 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  173 

ner  is  over,  they  long  for  tea  time,  and  so  on. 
Or  they  must  have  somebody  to  amuse  them, 
or  some  new  toys.  From  morning  till  night 
they  never  know  what  to  do  with  themselves ; 
but,  the  whole  long  day  they  are  lounging 
about,  and  troublesome  to  every  body,  contin- 
ually wishing,  or  asking,  or  crying,  for  some- 
thing, that  they  have  not Poor  miserable 

creatures  ! Children,  who  are  not  spoiled, 

will  smile  when  they  read  this  ;  and  will  be 
glad,  that  they  are  not  like  these,  but  that  they 
are  like  Harry  and  Lucy. 

Harry  and  Lucy  loved  pudding  and  apple- 
pie,  as  well  as  most  people  do ;  but  eating 
was  not  their  only,  or  their  greatest  pleasure. 
Having  acquired  a  love  for  reading,  and  for 
knowledge  of  many  sorts,  they  found  contin- 
ually a  number  of  employments,  and  of  ob- 
jects, which  entertained  and  interested  them. 
So  that  they  were  never  in  want  of  new  toys, 
or  of  somebody  to  amuse  them.  If  any  ex- 
traordinary amusement  was  given  to  them, 
such,  for  instance,  as  their  seeing  an  elephant, 
they  enjoyed  it,  as  much  as  possible  ;  but,  in 
general,  Harry  and  Lucy  felt,  that  they  want- 
ed nothing  beyond  their  common,  every-day 
occupations.  Beside  their  own  occupations 
and  amusements,  there  was  something  always 
going  on  in  the  house,  which  entertained 
them.  They  were  now  able  to  understand 
their  father's  and  mother's  conversation ;  liv- 
ing constantly  with  them  (and  not  with  ser- 
vants} they  sympathized,  that  is,  felt  along 


174  EARLY    LESSONS. 

with  their  parents,  and  made,  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, a  part  of  their  society.  Frequently,  their 
mother  read  aloud  in  the  evenings — Harry 
and  Lucy  were  never  desired  to  listen  ;  but 
sometimes  they  could  understand  what  was 
read,  and  sometimes  they  found  it  entertaining. 

It  happened,  one  winter  evening,  that  their 
mother  began  to  read  a  French  book,  which 
they  could  not  understand,  yet  it  seemed  to 
amuse  their  father  so  much,  that  they  wished 
to  know  what  it  was  about.  All  that  they 
heard  their  father  and  mother  saying  to  one 
another  about  it  made  them  sure,  that  it  must 
be  entertaining ;  they  left  their  map  of  Europe, 
which  they  had  been  putting  together,  and 
Lucy  went  and  looked  over  her  mother's 
shoulder  at  the  book,  and  Harry  leaned  on  his 
elbows  opposite  to  his  mother,  listening  ea- 
gerly, to  try  if  he  could  make  out  any  mean- 
ing ;  but  he  could  understand  only  a  word, 
or  a  short  sentence,  now  and  then. 

Their  mother  observed  their  eagerness  to 
know  what  she  was  reading,  and  she  was  so 
good  as  to  translate  for  them,  and  to  read  to 
them  in  English,  the  passages,  which  she 
thought  most  entertaining.  She  told  them, 
first,  what  it  was  about. 

It  was  the  account,  given  by  a  traveller,  of 
a  high  mountain,  in  Switzerland,  and  of  the 
manner  of  living  of  the  people  by  whom  it  is 
inhabited.  Harry  and  Lucy  turned  to  the  map 
of  Europe,  which  they  had  been  putting  togeth- 
er, and  pointed  to  Switzerland,  as  their  mother 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  175 

spcke.  The  name  of  the  mountain,  of  which 
she  was  reading  an  account,  was  Mount  Pilate. 
The  name  was  taken,  as  their  father  told  them, 
from  the  Latin  word  Pileus,  a  hat,  the  top  of 
this  mountain  being  almost  always  covered 
with  what  looks  like  a  hat  or  cap  of  clouds. 
Different  points,  or  heights,  of  this  mountain, 
are  called  by  different  names.  The  most  cu- 
rious, difficult,  and  dangerous  part  of  the  as- 
cent, lies  between  the  point  called  the  Ass, 
and  another  called  the  Shaking  Stone. 

1  O,  mother  !  read  about  the  shaking  stone,' 
cried  Harry. 

'  No,  Harry,  let  mother  begin  here,  where 
there  is  something  about  des  tres  belles 
f raises.  I  know  the  English  of  that,  very  fine 
strawberries' 

Her  mother  began  to  read  just  where 
Lucy's  finger  pointed. 

'  At  the  bottom  of  this  road,  up  to  the  sha- 
king stone,  is  a  bank,  which  is  covered  with 
very  fine  strawberries,  from  the  middle  of  sum- 
mer till  the  21st  of  December,  if  the  snow  does 
not  cover  them  before  that  time.  And  they 
may  be  found,  even  under  the  snow,  if  people 
will  take  the  trouble  to  look  for  them. 

'  All  the  fir-trees,  near  this  spot,  are  called 
storm-shelterers  ;  because  they  seem  to  have 
been  placed  there  on  purpose  to  shelter  people 
from  the  storms.  Some  of  them  afford  a  shel- 
ter of  fifty  feet  in  circumference.  The  rain 
cannot  penetrate  through  the  thick  branches 
of  these  trees.  The  cattle  are  often  seen  gath- 


176  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ered  together  under  them,  even  in  the  finest 
weather ;  but  it  generally  happens  that  a  storm 
comes  on,  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after 
the  cattle  have  taken  shelter  in  this  manner.' 

'  How  do  the  cows,  or  horses,  foresee  the 
storm,  mother  ?'  said  Lucy. 

'  I  do  not  know,  my  dear.' 

'  Let  my  mother  go  on  reading,  and  ask  all 
your  questions  afterwards,  Lucy,'  said  Harry. 

'  If  I  can  but  remember  them,'  said  Lucy. 

'  From  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  to  the  point 
where  there  is  the  village  called  Brundlen,  the 
road  is  tolerably  safe.  The  people  can  even 
drive  their  cows  up  here  :  but  with  this  pre- 
caution :  two  men  go  with  the  cow,  one  at  the 
head,  and  the  other  at  the  tail,  and  they  hold 
in  their  hands  a  long  pole,  which  they  keep 
always  between  the  cow  and  the  precipice,  so 
as  to  make  a  sort  of  banister,  or  rail,  to  pre- 
vent her  from  falling. 

'  People  are  forced  to  walk  very  slowly  on 
this  road.  Half  way  up,  you  come  to  a  curi- 
ous fir  tree.  From  its  trunk,  which  is  eight 
feet  in  circumference,  spread  nine  branches, 
each  about  three  feet  in  circumference,  and  six 
feet  long.  From  the  end  of  each  of  these 
branches,  which  are  about  fifteen  feet  from 
the  ground,  there  rises  perpendicularly,  a  fir 
tree.  This  tree  looks,  in  shape,  something 
like  a  great  chandelier,  with  all  its  candles. 

'  The  village  of  Brundlen  is  the  highest  and 
last  village  on  the  mountain.  It  stands  at  the 
foot  of  a  rock,  from  which  enormous  stones 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  177 

and  fragments  of  rock  frequently  roll  down  : 
but  the  houses  are  so  situated,  under  the  pro- 
jecting part  of  the  rock,  that  all  which  falls 
from  it,  bounds  over  without  touching  them. 
The  inhabitants  of  this  village  possess  about 
forty  cows.  The  peasants  mow  only  those 
parts  of  the  mountain,  where  the  cattle  cannot 
venture  to  go  to  feed.  The  mowers  are  let 
down,  or  drawn  up,  to  these  places,  by  ropes, 
from  the  top  of  the  rock  ;  they  put  the  grass, 
when  they  have  mowed  it,  into  nets,  which 
are  drawn  up,  or  let  down,  by  the  same  ropes, 
wherever  it  is  wanted.  It  is  remarkable,  that 
the  kinds  of  grass  and  herbs  which  are  found  in 
these  mountainous  places,  are  quite  different 
from  those  which  grow  in  the  low  countries.7 

'  My  dear  children,  is  it  possible,  that  you 
are  interested  about  these  grasses  ?'  said  their 
mother. 

'  No,  mother,'  said  Lucy,  '  not  much  about 
the  grasses  ;  but  I  like  that  part  about  the 
mowers,  let  down  by  ropes  ;  and  I  like  to 
hear  it,  just  as  you  read  it  to  father.' 

1  Round  some  of  these  stones,  which  have 
partly  fallen,  or  mouldered  away,  grows  a 
flower,  which  is  a  very  dangerous  poison.  At 
four  or  five  feet  distance  from  this  plant  the 
cattle  perceive  its  smell,  and  they  leave  the 
grass  around  it  untouched.  The  flowers  of 
the  different  kinds  of  this  plant  are  of  a  fine 
deep  blue,  yellow,  or  white.  The  white  are 
the  most  uncommon ;  and  the  poison  of  these 
it  is  said,  is  the  most  dangerous.  Some  years 


178  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ago  a  }  oung  man  gathered  some  of  these  flow- 
ers, and  held  them  in  his  hand,  while  he  de- 
scended the  mountain,  to  go  to  a  ball.  When 
he  was  near  the  place  where  he  was  to  dance, 
he  felt,  that  his  hand  was  numb,  and  he  threw 
away  the  flowers.  He  danced,  afterwards, 
for  an  hour  or  two,  with  a  young  woman, 
holding  her  hand  all  the  time ;  he  grew  warm; 
and  the  poison,  from  the  poisonous  flowers,  it 
is  supposed,  was  communicated  from  his  hand 
to  hers  ;  for  they  both  died  that  night.' 

Harry  and  Lucy  were  shocked  at  this  story. 

'  But,  mother,'  said  Harry,  '  do  you  think 
it  is  true  ?' 

'  That  was  the  very  thing  I  was  consider- 
ing,' said  his  mother. 

Then  his  father  and  mother  began  to  talk 
about  the  probability  of  its  being  true  or  false. 

They  looked  back  for  the  description  of  the 
flower  and  for  the  Latin  name,  which  their 
mother,  knowing  that  the  children  would  not 
understand,  had  passed  over.  By  comparing 
the  name  and  description  of  this  flower  with 
those  in  botanical  books,  where  the  descrip- 
tion and  accounts  of  the  properties  of  plants 
are  given,  they  found  that  the  plant,  of  which 
they  had  been  reading,  was  a  species  of  aconite, 
called  in  English,  wolf's-bane,  or  monk 's- 
/wod,  and,  as  several  instances  were  mentioned 
of  its  poisonous  and  fatal  effects,  they  were 
inclined  to  believe,  that  the  story  of  the  young 
man's  and  woman's  death  might  be  true. 

Lucy,  seeing,  in  some  of  the  botanical  books 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  179 

in  which  her  mother  had  heen  looking,  pretty 
colored  drawings,  or  prints  of  flowers,  asked 
whether  she  might  look  at  them.  Her  mother 
said,  that  she  might,  at  some  other  time,  but  not 
this  evening ;  because  Lucy  could  not  attend 
both  to  looking  at  these  prints  and  to  what  she 
heard  read  aloud.  So  Lucy  shut  the  books, 
and  she  and  Harry  put  them  into  their  places 
again,  in  the  bookcase,  resolving  that  they 
would  look  at  them,  together,  the  next  day. 

1  Now,  mother/  said  Harry,  as  they  drew 
their  seats  close  to  her,  and  settled  themselves 
again  to  listen  ;  '  now  for  the  shaking  stone, 
mother.' 

Their  kind  mother  began  immediately,  and 
read  on,  as  follows  : — 

'  This  stone  is  at  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
called  the  Ober  Alp  :  it  overhangs  the  rock  a 
little,  and  appears  as  if  it  would  fall :  but  this 
is  really  impossible,  unless  it  were  thrown 
down  by  a  violent  earthquake.  The  stone  is 
as  large  as  a  moderate-sized  house.  When 
any  one  has  the  boldness  to  get  upon  it  to  lie 
down,  and  let  their  head  overhang  the  stone, 
they  will  feel  the  stone  shake,  so  that  it  seems 
as  if  it  were  going  to  fall  that  moment.  In 
1744,  the  stone  ceased  to  shake.  About  six 
years  afterwards,  somebody  discovered,  that 
this  arose  from  a  little  pebble  which  had  fallen 
through  a  crack,  and  had  remained  under  the 
stone.  A  man  fastened  a  great  hammer  to  a 
pole,  and,  after  frequently  striking  the  pebble 
with  the  hammer,  he  succeeded  in  dislodging 


180  EARLY   LESSONS. 

it.  Immediately,  the  stone  began  to  shake  a- 
gain,  and  has  continued  ever  since  to  vibrate.' 

'  How  glad  the  man,  who  struck  the  pebble 
from  under  the  stone,  must  have  been,  when 
he  saw  it  begin  to  shake  again  !'  said  Harry. 
'  I  should  like  to  have  been  that  man.' 

'  Now  I,'  said  Lucy,  '  could  not  have  man- 
aged the  great  pole  and  hammer  ;  and  I  would 
rather  have  been  the  person,  who  first  discov- 
ered, that  the  pebble  had  got  under  the  stone, 
and  that  it  was  the  cause,  which  prevented 
the  stone  from  shaking.' 

'  O,  but  any  body,  who  had  eyes,  could 
have  seen  that,'  said  Harry. 

'  And  yet  all  those  people,  who  lived  in  that 
country,  had  eyes,  I  suppose,'  said  Lucy;  'but 
they  were  six  years  before  they  saw  it.' 

'  They  had  eyes  and  no  eyes,'  said  her 
mother,  smiling. 

'  That  is  true ;  I  understand  what  you  mean, 
mother,'  said  Lucy.  '  1  have  read  '  Eyes  and 
no  Eyes,'  in  Evenings  at  Home  ;  and  I  like 
it  very  much.  But  will  you  go  on,  mother,  if 
there  is  any  thing  more  that  is  entertaining?' 

'  There  is  something  more,  that,  perhaps, 
would  entertain  you,'  said  her  mother  ;  '  but 
I  will  not  read  any  more  to  you  to-night,  be- 
cause it  is  time  for  you  to  go  to  bed.' 

'  To-morrow  night,  mother,  will  you  read 
some  more  to  us  ?' 

'  I  will  not  promise,  my  dear — perhaps,  I 
may  have  something  else  to  do — or,  perhaps, 
you  may  not  deserve  it  so  well  to-morrow. 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  181 

When  to-morrow  night  comes,  it  will  be  time 
enough  to  give  you  an  answer.' 


The  next  morning,  when  Harry  and  Lucy 
went  into  their  father's  room,  they  took  care 
to  have  the  bladder  and  the  bellows  ready  by 
the  time  that  he  was  up,  as  he  had  promised 
to  show  them  some  experiments. 

'  Now,'  said  he, '  we  will  fill  this  bladder  with 
air,  by  blowing  air  into  it  with  the  bellows.' 

He  put  the  end  of  the  bellows  into  the  neck 
of  the  bladder,  and  bid  Harry  hold  the  blad- 
der, and  Lucy  blow  the  bellows. 

'  It  is  now  quite  full,  father,'  said  Lucy  :  '  I 
will  tie  the  air  in,  with  a  waxed  string  round 
the  neck  of  the  bladder.  I  know  how  to  do  that 
— Look,  how  full,  and  round  and  tight  it  is.' 

'  So  it  is,'  said  her  father ;  '  but  now  I 
want  to  let  out  some  of  the  air,  that  is  in  this 
bladder,  without  letting  out  all  of  it  :  how 
shall  I  do  that  ?' 

'  I  do  not  know,'  said  Lucy;  '  for,  if  I  untie 
this  string,  I  am  afraid  all  the  air,  that  is  in 
the  bladder  now,  would  come  out.' 

'  That  it  certainly  would,'  said  her  father. 

'  How  shall  we  manage  it  ?'  repeated  Harry 
and  Lucy  :  after  considering  for  some  time, 
Harry  observed,  that,  beyond  the  place  where 
the  bladder  was  tied,  there  was  enough  of  the 
neck  of  the  bladder  left  to  admit  the  nose  of 
the  bellows  :  he  proposed,  that  they  should 
put  in  the  end  of  the  bellows,  and  tie  the  blad- 


182 


EARLY    LESSONts. 


der  round  it,  and  then  untie  that  string  with 
which  they  had  at  first  tied  the  neck  of  the 
bladder.  His  father  said,  that  this  would  do, 
but  he  could  show  him  what  would  do  better 
He  gave  him  a  little  piece  of  wood,  about  two 
inches  long,  that  had  a  wooden  stopper  at  one 
end,  that  could  be  easily  put  into  the  pipe,  and 
easily  taken  out.  He  told  Harry,  that  this  kind 
of  pipe  and  stopper  are  called  a  spigot  and 
faucet :  he  fastened  the  faucet  into  the  neck 
of  the  bladder,  so  that  he  could  stop  the  air 
from  coming  out  of  the  bladder  when  it  was 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  133 

full,  and  he  could  at  any  time  let  out  the  air, 
by  taking  away  the  peg,  or  spigot.  Then  he 
let  out  a  great  part  of  the  air  that  was  in  the 
bladder,  till  it  was  nearly  empty,  stopped  the 
faucet  again  with  the  spigot,  and  then  carried 
the  bladder  to  the  fire. 

'  Now  you  will  see,'  said  their  father,  '  that 
the  heat  of  the  fire  will  swell  the  small  quan- 
tity of  air  remaining  in  the  bladder,  till  it  will 
fill  as  great  a  space,  as  that  which  was  filled 
by  all  the  air,  which  we  forced  into  it  at  first 
with  the  bellows.  Here,  Harry,  take  this  to 
the  fire,  while  I  shave  myself.' 

The  children  held  the  bladder  near  the  fire, 
but  it  did  not  swell  out  immediately ;  and, 
after  they  had  held  it  a  few  minutes,  they  be- 
gan to  think,  that  it  would  never  do,  as  Harry 
said.  His  father  told  him,  that  he  must  not  be 
so  impatient,  if  he  intended  to  try  experi- 
ments. 

'  If  you  are  tired  of  holding  the  bladder,'  said 
he,  '  put  it  down  on  the  hearth,  leave  it  there, 
and  go  and  do,  or  think  of  something  else  ; 
and,  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  perhaps, 
it  will  begin  to  swell  out.' 

1  A  quarter  of  an  hour  !  that  is  a  great  while 
indeed  !'  said  Harry. 

However,  the  quarter  of  an  hour  passed, 
while  the  children  were  putting  some  little 
drawers  of  their  father  in  order.  When  they 
returned,  to  look  at  the  bladder,  they  saw  that 
it  was  beginning  to  swell,  and  they  watched  it, 
while  it  gradually  swelled.  First  one  fold  of 


184  EARLY    LESSONS. 

the  bag  opened,  then  another,  till,  at  last,  it  was 
again  swelled  out  into  the  shape  of  a  globe. 

'  This  is  very  extraordinary  !'  said  Lucy, 
'  that  the  little,  the  very  little  air,  which  father 
left  in  the  bladder,  should  have  swelled  out  to 
this  size,  without  any  thing  being  added  to  it.' 

'  Without  any  thing  being  added  to  it !'  re- 
peated her  father  :  '  think  again,  my  dear.' 

1 1  have  thought  again,  father  ;  but,  I  as- 
sure you,  nothing  was  added  to  the  air ;  for  we 
never  opened  the  bladder,  after  you  put  in  the 
— what  do  you  call  it  ! — which  fastens  it.' 

'  The  spigot,'  said  Harry. 

'  The  spigot,'  said  Lucy.  '  Well,  father,  I 
say,  nothing  was  added  to  the  air.' 

'  I  say,  daughter,  you  are  mistaken.' 

'  Why,  father,  we  did  nothing  in  the  world 
but  hold  the  bladder  to  the  fire,  and  leave  it 
before  the  fire,  and  nobody  touched  it,  nor  put 
any  thing  to  it,  nor  near  it  !' 

Still  her  father  said — '  Think  again,  Lucy.' 

She  recollected  herself,  and  exclaimed — 

'  I  know  what  you  mean  now,  father — 
heat — heat  was  added  to  it  !' 

£  Yes,'  said  her  father,  '  heat  mixed  with 
the  air  of  the  bladder  ;  and,  by  separating  the 
parts  of  the  air  from  each  other,  made  them 
take  up  more  room.  Now  take  the  bladder 
into  a  cold  place  ;  hang  it  up  near  the  win- 
dow, and  let  us  see  what  will  happen.' 

'  I  know  what  will  happen,  father,'  said 
Lucy.  '  When  the  air  in  the  bladder  grows 
cold,  it  will  take  up  less  room.' 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  185 

'  It  will  contract,'  interrupted  Harry. 

'  And  then,'  continued  Lucy,  '  the  bladder 
will  shrink,  and  become  less  and  less,  and  it 
will  fall  in  folds,  in  a  kind  of  loose  bag,  just 
as  it  was  before  we  carried  it  to  the  fire.  I 
shall  like  to  see  whether  this  will  happen  just 
as  I  think  it  will.' 

Lucy  hung  up  the  bladder  in  a  cold  place, 
and  watched  it  for  a  few  minutes  ;  but  she 
did  not  perceive  any  immediate  alteration. 

1  It  will  be  as  long  in  shrinking  as  it  was  in 
swelling  out,'  said  she  ;  '  and  breakfast  will 
be  ready,  I  am  afraid,  before  it  shrinks.' 

c  I  know  a  way  of  making  it  shrink  quick- 
ly,' cried  Harry. 

'  What  is  it  V 

'I  will  not  tell  you,  but  I  will  show  you,'  said 
Harry.  '  You  shall  see  what — you  shall  see.' 

He  ran  out  of  the  room,  and  soon  returned 
with  his  little  watering-pot  full  of  cold  water. 

'  Now,  Lucy,'  said  he,  l  hold  the  basin  for 
me  under  the  bladder,  that  we  may  not  wet 
the  floor — hold  it  steady.' 

He  poured  cold  water  from  the  nose  of  the 
watering-pot,  so  as  to  sprinkle  the  water  all 
over  the  bladder,  and  immediately  the  bladder 
began  to  collapse,  or  shrink  ;  and  soon,  to  Lu- 
cy's delight,  it  was  diminished  to  the  size  of 
which  it  had  been  before  it  was  carried  to  the 
fire,  and  it  hung  like  a  loose  or  flaccid  bag. 

'  Father,  look  !'  said  she,  '  look  how  much 
less  room  the  bladder  takes  up  now  !' 
16 


186  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  Then,'  said  her  father,  '  something  must 
have  been  taken  away  from  what  was  with- 
inside  of  it.' 

Yes,'  said  Lucy. 

What  was  taken  away  V 

Heat.'  replied  Lucy. 

What  took  away  the  heat  V 

Cold  water.' 

How  did  that  happen  ?' 

Lucy  answered,  she  believed  that  the  heat 
went  into  the  water — that  the  water  must 
have  taken  away  the  heat  of  the  air  that 
was  within  the  bladder. 

{  Attracted  !'  cried  Harry :  '  you  should  say, 
that  the  water  attracted  the  heat  from  the  air.' 

'  Well,  attracted,'  said  Lucy  : — '  first,  I  sup- 
pose, the  bladder  itself  became  warm, by  touch- 
ing the  warm  air  withinside  of  it :  then  the 
water  took,  or  attracted — as  you  tell  me  I 
must  say — some  of  the  heat  from  the  bladder  : 
then  the  bladder  attracted  some  more  heat 
from  the  inside  air  :  and  so  on.' 

'  Accurately  stated,  Lucy,'  said  her  father  ; 
'  Now  you  have  thought  enough  of  all  these 

things Stay  !  —  before   you   go,   tell  me 

what  you  have  learned  from  the  experiments 
you   have  tried  this  morning.' 

'  Experiments,  father  !'  said  Lucy,  smiling, 
and  looking  surprised — '  I  did  not  think  we 
had  been  trying  experiments  ! — I  thought, 
that  only  grown  up  people,  and  philosophers, 
could  try  experiments.' 

'  There  you  were  mistaken,  my  dear,'  said 


HARRY   AND  LUCY.  187 

ner  father  ;  '  an  experiment  is  only  a  trial  of 
any  thing,  or  something  done  to  find  out  what 
will  be  the  consequence.  You  carried  the 
bladder  to  the  fire,  or  poured  cold  water  upon 
it,  to  find  out  what  would  happen  to  the  air 
withinside  of  it.  Children  can  try  some  ex- 
periments, as  well  as  grown  up  people  can.' 

'  Father,'  cried  Harry,  '  I  have  heard  you 
talk  of  Dr.  Franklin ' 

1  And  of  Newton,'  said  Lucy,  'I  heard  some- 
thing  ' 

'  Very  likely,  my  dear,'  interrupted  her  fa- 
ther ;  '  but  do  not  fly  off  to  Dr.  Franklin  and 
Newton,  till  you  have  answered  the  question  I 
asked  you  just  now.  What  have  you  learned 
from  the  experiments  you  tried  this  morning  ?' 

After  Lucy  had  recollected  what  she  had 
seen  and  heard,  she  answered  ; — '  I  have 
learnt,  that  heat  expanded,  or  spread  out,  the 
air  in  this  bladder  ;  and  that  cold ' 

1  That  is,  the  want  of  heat,'  interrupted 
her  father. 

'  That  cold,  or  the  want  of  heat,  made  or 
let  the  air  in  the  bladder  grow  smaller.' 

'  Contract,'  said  Harry. 

'  The  same  effects  would  be  produced  by  ta- 
king away  heat,  not  only  from  the  air  in  that 
bladder,  but  from  all  air,'  said  their  father. 
'  Now  put  the  bladder  in  the  place  where  you 
found  it,  and  let  us  divert  ourselves  with 
something  else.  Can  you  cut  capers,  Harry  ?' 

'  Yes,  father  ;  but  first  I  want  to  say  some- 
thing : — How  very  little  we  learn  every  morn- 


188  EARLY    LESSONS. 

ing  !  I  looked  at  your  watch,  when  I  came 
into  your  room,  and  it  was  just  half  after  eight 
o'clock,  and  now  it  is  nine.  So  we  have  been 

here  half  an  hour Half  an  hour  ! — I  can 

scarcely  believe  that  we  have  been  here  so 
long,  father  ?' 

'  Then  you  have  not  been  tired,  Harry  ?' 

'  No,  not  at  all  : — But  I  am  afraid,  father, 
that,  if  we  learn  so  very  little  every  day,  we 
shall  never  get  on.' 

'  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  that,  my  dear  : 
learning  a  little,  a  very  little,  accurately,  every 
day,  is  better  than  learning  a  great  deal 
inaccurately.' 

1  A  little  and  a  little,  every  day  regularly, 
make  a  great  deal  in  many  days,'  said  Lucy. 
'  I  have  found  this  to  be  true,  when  I  have 
been  at  work,  and  when  I  have  done  but 
very  little  each  day.' 

'  But  when  shall  we  get  to  the  barometer  ?' 
said  Harry. 

'  O  !  is  that  what  you  mean  T  said  his  father. 
'  Patience,  my  boy  ! — Patience  till  to-morrow  !' 

'  Patience  till  to-morrow  I  must  have,  for  I 
cannot  help  it/  said  Harry,  sighing — '  I  wish 
to-day  was  over.' 

'  No,'  said  Lucy,  'you  need  not  wish  to-day 
was  over.  Recollect,  brother,  that  we  have 
a  great  many  pleasant  things  to  do  to-day. 
I  am  sure,  Harry,  you  cannot  wish,  that  this 
evening  was  over,  because  you  know  — • 
though  mother  did  not  promise  it — if  we 
deserve  it — as  I  am  sure  we  shall — she  will 


HARRY     AND    LUCY. 


189 


read   to   us   some   more   of  that   man's  en- 
tertaining travels.' 

During  this  day,  Harry  and  Lucy  were  at- 
tentive to  every  thing,  that  they  had  to  do.  It 
snowed,  so  that,  after  they  had  finished  their 
lessons,  they  could  not  go  out,  or  take  as  much 
exercise  as  usual  ;  but  they  warmed  them- 
selves by  playing  at  hide  and  seek,  and  at 
battledore  and  shuttlecock,  and  at  ball,  at 
which  they  were  allowed  to  play,  in  an  empty 
gallery,  where  they  could  do  no  mischief. 


190  EARLY    LESSONS. 

The  evening  came,  and  they  were  eager  to 
Know  whether  their  mother  would  read  to 
them  this  night.  She  smiled,  when  Lucy 
brought  the  book  to  her,  and  said — 

'  Yes,  my  dears,  you  have  both  been  atten- 
tive to  every  thing  you  had  to  do  to-day,  and 
I  shall  be  glad  to  give  you  this  pleasure  ; 
but,  first,  I  must  write  a  letter.' 

'  While  you  are  writing,  mother,'  said 
Lucy,  '  may  we  try  if  we  can  make  out  any 
of  this  French  1  here  is  something,  that  you 
missed,  about  la  statue  et  la  caverne  —  the 
statue  and  the  cavern — which  looks  as  if  it 
was  entertaining  :  and  I  wish  I  could  make 
it  out — May  I  try,  mother  ?' 

'  Yes,  my  dear,  provided  you  do  not  turn  me 
into  a  dictionary  ;  because  I  cannot  write  my 
letter,  and  be  your  dictionary  at  the  same  time.' 

Without  their  mother's  assistance,  Harry 
and  Lucy  made  out,  pretty  well,  the  sense  of 
what  they  wanted  to  read  ;  and,  as  soon  as 
their  mother  had  finished  her  letter,  Lucy  be- 
gan to  tell  her  all,  that  they  had  translated. 

'  We  have  found  out,  mother,  that  it  is  an 
account  of  a  man  of  the  name  of  Huber,  who 
wanted  to  go  into  a  cavern,  in  a  rock  of  black, 
or  blackish  stone  (noiraire^)  to  see  a  statue 
called  Dominique,  which  was  of  white  stone, 
and  seemed  to  be  about  thirty  feet  high — above 
twice  as  high  as  this  room,  mother  !  But  no 
one  had  ever  been  able  to  get  to  this  statue, 
the  way  to  it  was  so  dangerous ;  they  could, 
however,  distinguish  plainly,  that  it  was  the 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  19J 

figure  of  a  man  —  doing  something  on  a  ta- 
ble— 

'  Jiccoud&  sur  une  table.' 

'  Mother,  you  must,  if  you  please,  be  so 
good,  as  to  tell  us  what  accoude  is  ;  for  we 
could  not  find  it  in  the  dictionary.' 

'  It  is  just  what  Harry  is  doing  at  this  mo- 
ment— leaning  his  elbows  on  the  table.' 

1  O,  now  I  understand  it  perfectly.  The 
figure  of  a  man  leaning  with  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  his  legs  crossed,  and  seeming  to 
guard  the  entrance  of  this  cavern.  Well, 
ma'am,  nobody  had  ever  been  able  to  get  to 
his  statue — I  told  you  that.' 

'  True,  my  dear  ;  therefore  you  need  not 
tell  it  to  me  again.' 

'  Very  well,  ma'am — but  this  man,  of  the 
name  of  Huber,  who  was  a  very  courageous 
person,  was  determined  to  get  to  the  statue. 
So,  finding  that  he  could  not  clamber  up  from 
the  bottom  of  this  rock,  he  had  himself  let 
down  from  the  top,  by  a  long,  a  very  long 
rope,  which  he  tied,  I  suppose,  round  his  body  ; 
but  it  does  not  say  so.  When  he  was  let 
down — What  do  you  think  he  found  ? — He 
found — How  provoking ! — that  the  rock  over- 
hung the  cavern  so  much,  that,  as  he  hung 
down  this  way,  like  a  plumb  line,  as  Harry 
says,  he  never  could  reach  the  entrance  of  the 
cavern,  which  was  far  in,  far  under  the  rock ; 
so  he  was  forced  to  call  to  the  people  to  draw 
him  up  again.  But  he  had  seen  enough  to  be 
almost  sure,  the  statue  was  really  a  statue  of 


192  EARLY    LESSONS. 

a  man,  and  not  a  white  stone  that  looked  like 

a  man,  as  some  people  thought  it  was So 

— then  there  is  something  about  the  statue's 
not  being  '  I  ouvrage  fortuit  de  la  nature1 — 
that  we  could  not  understand,  so  we  missed 
it.  So  the  man,  Huber,  got  a  pole,  to  the  end 
of  which  he  fastened  a  hook,  which  he  thought 
he  could  hook  into  the  rock,  and  pull  himself 
closer  and  closer  to  the  entrance  of  the  cav- 
ern, and  so  get  in So ' 

'  But,  my  dear,  leave  out  so — do  not  sew 
your  story  together  so.' 

'  So,  ma'am 1  mean — he  was  let  down 

a  second  time — but,  O  !  now,  ma'am,  the  ter- 
rible thing  ! — the  rope  twisted  and  twisted 
continually ;  his  weight  was  more  than  the 
rope  could  bear,  and  it  broke,  and  he  fell,  and 
was  dashed  to  pieces  !' 

'  Poor  man  !  Was  not  he  very  courageous, 
father  V  said  Harry  ;  '  I  admire  him  very 
much.' 

'  He  was  courageous,  certainly,'  said  Har- 
ry's father  ;  '  but,  before  we  admire  him  very 
much,  we  should  consider  what  his  motive 
was,  or  what  good  he  could  do  by  hazarding 
his  life.  If  it  was  with  the  hope  of  being  of 
any  great  service  to  himself,  or  to  any  one 
else ;  if  it  was  to  accomplish  any  useful  or 
generous  purpose,  I  should  admire  a  man  for 
risking  his  life ;  but  I  cannot  admire  him  for 
running  the  chance  of  breaking  his  neck, 
merely  to  see  a  statue  ;  or  to  find  out  wlieth- 
ar  it  was  the  statue  of  a  man  or  a  white 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  193 

stone.  I  remember,  that,  when  I  was  at  Clif- 
ton, some  years  ago,  a  boy  was  dashed  to  pie- 
ces by  falling  from  a  high  rock,  to  which  he 
had  climbed,  to  look  for  a  bird's  nest.  A  few 
days  after  this  accident  happened,  I  saw  an- 
other boy  climb  to  the  same  place,  in  search  of 
the  same  nest — This  was  folly,  not  courage.' 

'  It  was,  indeed,'  said  Harry.  '  But, 
mother,  will  you  be  so  kind,  to  read  on  ?' 

'  Next  comes,'  said  their  mother,  '  an  ac- 
count of  the  traveller's  finding,  in  the  wildest 
part  of  the  mountain,  a  hut,  inhabited  by  ten 
or  twelve  children,  who  lived  there  with  a 
dog,  who  looked  more  savage  than  themselves. 
They  took  care  of  a  flock  of  goats,  and  lived 
chiefly  on  the  milk  of  the  goats.  As  soon  as 
a  stranger  appeared  on  this  part  of  the  moun- 
tain, the  children  ran  away,  and  shut  them- 
selves up  in  their  hut,  and  sent  their  dog  after 
him — a  dog  he  might  be  called,  because  he 
barked,  but  he  was  a  peculiar  and  hideous 
looking  creature ' 

'  Is  this  all,  mother,'  said  Lucy,  as  her  mo- 
ther stopped,  '  all  that  the  man  tells  about  the 

children  ? 1  wish   he   had  told  more — I 

want  to  know  how  these  children  lived  togeth- 
er, and  "whether  they  quarrelled,  like  those* 
in  '  The  Children's  Friend,''  who  asked  their 
father  to  let  them  live  by  themselves,  and  gov- 
ern themselves  for  one  day Only  for  one 

day  ! — and  what  difficulties  they  got  into  !' 

*  Les  enfans  qui  veulent  se  gouverner. 

17 


194  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  Yes,'  said  Harry,  '  but  those  children  made 
themselves  sick,  by  eating  and  drinking  too 
much,  and  they  quarrelled  because  they  had 
nothing  to  do,  but  to  play  all  day  long  :  but 
there  was  no  danger,  that  these  poor  children 
on  the  mountain  should  eat  too  much,  for  they 
had  scarcely  any  thing  but  goats'  milk  ;  and 
they  must  have  had  enough  to  do,  as  there 
was  no  one  to  do  any  thing  for  them — -But, 
father,'  continued  Harry,  after  thinking  for  a 
minute,  '  I  want  to  know  who  was  king 
among  them,  and  I  want  to  know  what  laws 
they  made  for  themselves,  and  what  punish- 
ments they  had  ;  for  they  could  not  have  gone 
on  long  without  some  laws,  I  am  sure.' 

'  Pray,  what  would  have  been  your  laws, 
Harry  ?'  said  his  father — '  I  give  you  a  week 
to  consider  of  it — you  and  Lucy  may  consult 

together Now  let  us  go  on  with  '  The 

Traveller's  Wonders' 

'  I  do  not  find  any  thing  else  worth  reading  to 
you,  my  dears,'  said  their  mother,  '  except  an 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  these  moun- 
taineers are  taught  to  walk  in  dangerous  pla- 
ces ;  and  an  account  of  the  honesty  of  the 
people,  in  preserving,  for  the  hunters,  the 
game,  which  belongs  to  them.' 

'  Ha  !  I  shall  like  to  hear  that ;  we  must 
remember  honesty,  the  first  thing  in  our 
laws,'  said  Harry. 

'  There  are  six  hunters,  who  divide  among 
themselves,  and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the 
mountain,  all  the  game  which  they  kill  • 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  195 

and,  in  return,  they  are  fed  for  nothing  in  the 
cottages.  They  undergo  great  labor,  and  go 
into  dangerous  places,  in  pursuit  of  the  goats 
and  cocks  of  the  wood.  When  these  animals 
are  shot,  they  often  roll  down  from  the  high- 
est rocks,  to  the  vallies  beneath  ;  and  the 
peasants,  who  live  in  these  vallies,  when 
they  find  these  dead  birds  and  beasts,  take 
care  of  them,  and  faithfully  return  them  to 
the  hunters.  If  this  was  not  done,  the  hun- 
ters would  be  obliged  to  walk  many  miles, 
to  pick  up  the  game,  which  they  kill.  You 
see,  that  this  honesty  is  useful  to  all  the 
people  who  practise  it — so  is  honesty  in  all 
cases  :  therefore,  Harry,  I  think  you  will  do 
right  to  remember  it  first  in  your  laws.' 

'  So  I  will,'  said  Harry.  '  But  now,  mother, 
will  you  go  on  to  the  part,  which  tells  how 
the  people  learn  to  walk  in  dangerous  pla- 
ces V 

1 1  am  afraid  it  is  too  late  to  read  any  more 
to-night,'    answered   his   mother — looking  at 
her  watch.     '  Good-night,  my  dear  children 
— We  must  put  off  the  account  of  the  walk 
ing,  till  another  time.' 


END  OF    PART    III. 


196 
HARRY  AND   LUCY. 

PART  IV. 


'  Now  for  the  barometer  !'  said  Harry,  as  he 
went  into  his  father's  room  iri  the  morning. 

'  Not  yet,  my  dear  boy,'  said  his  father  ; 
'  you  must  know  something  more,  before  you 
can  understand  the  barometer.' 

Harry  looked  disappointed  for  a  moment ; 
but,  recovering  himself,  he  turned  to  observe 
what  his  father  was  doing.  He  was  filling  the 
bladder  with  water,  to  measure  how  much  it 
wouW  hold  :  it  held  five  quarts,  that  is,  ten 
pints.  '  If  you  fill  it  ever  so  often,  you  can- 
not force  more  water  into  that  bladder,  can 
you  T  said  his  father. 

'  No,  certainly  not ;  for,  if  we  try  to  put  in 
any  more  water,  it  will  run  over,'  said  Lucy. 

'  Then  you  find,'  said  her  father,  '  that  we 
cannot  force  the  parts  of  water  nearer  to  each 
other,  as  you  did  those  of  air — water  differs 
from  air,  in  this  respect.' 

'  Yes,'  said  Lucy,  '  for,  when  you  poured  wa- 
ter upon  the  bladder,  the  air  withinside  took 
up  less  room  than  before  ;  therefore,  the  parts 
of  the  air  must  have  come  nearer  together.' 


HARRY    AND  LUCY.  197 

c  But  perhaps,  father,'  said  Harry,  '  if  this 
bladder  was  strong  enough  to  bear  our  pressing 
water  into  it,  we  could  force  more  in  :  if  you 
were  to  take  an  iron  vessel,  and  try  to  force 
water  into  it.  would  it  not  be  possible  to 
squeeze  the  parts  of  the  water  closer  together, 
by  pressing  down  the  top  of  the  vessel  V 

1  No,  my  dear,'  continued  his  father  ;  '  if  a 
vessel  had  a  top,  made  to  screw  into  its  mouth, 
to  fit  it  exactly  ;  and  if  water  was  poured 
into  the  vessel,  till  it  came  to  the  very  mouth 
of  it,  you  could  not  squeeze  the  water  down 
by  screwing  the  top  on.  If  you  force  the  cover 
to  screw  on,  the  water  will  make  its  way 
through  the  screw,  till  the  cover  is  screwed 
quite  down,  or  it  will  burst  the  vessel.' 

'  Burst  the  vessel  !'  cried  Lucy — '  an  iron 
vessel,  father  ! — Is  that  possible  ? — I  should 

like  to  see  that  experiment But  I  believe  it 

would  be  dangerous,  because  when  the  iron 
vessel  bursts,  the  bits  of  it  might  be  thrown 
against  us,  and  hurt  us — Father,  I  remem- 
ber your  giving  mother  an  account  of  some 
vessel,  that  burst,  from  having  too  much  hot 
water — too  much  steam,  I  mean,  in  it.' 

'  Yes,  because  heat  was  added  to  the  water,' 
said  Harry.  '  Water,  in  the  tea-kettle,  boils 
over,  when  it  is  made  very  hot ;  and  I  sup- 
pose, that,  if  the  top  of  the  tea-kettle  was 
screwed  down  so  tight,  that  no  steam  could 
get  out,  and  if  the  spout  was  stopped  in  such 
a  manner  that  the  steam  could  not  come  out 
there,  the  tea-kettle  would  burst.' 


198  EARLY   LESSONS. 

'  Yes,'  answered  his  father. 

1  Then  there  is  a  way  of  swelling  water  by 
heat  ?'  said  Lucy. 

'  It  is  not  the  water  that  swells,'  said  her 
father  :  '  while  it  continues  water,  it  does  not 
swell  ;  but,  when  heat  mixes  with  it,  or  when 
it  becomes  what  we  call  steam,  or  vapor, 
then  it  swells,  and  takes  up  a  great  deal  more 
room  than  it  did  before.' 

'  But  there  was  something  I  was  in  a  great 
hurry  to  say,'  cried  Lucy,  '  and  now  I  have 
forgotten  it — Talking  of  the  boiling  over  of 
the  tea-kettle  put  it  out  of  my  head." 

'  You  mean  the  boiling  over  of  the  water 
in  the  tea-kettle,'  said  her  father. 

'  Yes,  father  ;  but  what  was  I  thinking 
of?'  said  Lucy. 

'  Recollect,'  said  her  father,  'what  you  were 
thinking  of,  just  before  we  spoke  of  the  tea- 
kettle ;  and  then,  perhaps,  you  may  recollect 
what  you  want  to  remember.' 

'  We  were  talking  of  the  swelling,  or  not 
swelling  of  water,  by  heat — O,  I  recollect  what 
it  was  !'  said  Lucy — '  I  know  a  way,  father,  of 
swelling,  or  expanding  water  without  heat.' 

'  What  is  that  way '?'  said  Harry. 

'  There  is  a  way,  I  assure  you.  brother  ; 
ani  you  know  it,  or,  at  least,  you  have  seen 

it,  as  well   as   I Don't   you   know,    that, 

when  water  is  frozen,  it  swells  ?' 

'  How  do  you  know  that,  sister  ?' 

'  I  know,  that  bottles,  filled  with  water,  of- 
ten b'urst,  when  it  freezes,'  said  Lucy  :  '  I 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  199 

assure  you,  I  have  seen  the  water  bottle  in 
my  room  broken  by  the  frost.' 

'  That  bottle  had  a  very  narrow  neck,'  said 
Harry  ;  '  bottles,  or  jugs,  that  are  as  wide  at 
the  mouth,  or  wider  than  elsewhere,  do  not 
burst,  when  the  water  withinside  of  them  is 
frozen  —  the  jug  in  my  room  never  bursts, 
though  the  water  is  often  frozen  in  it.' 

'  What  is  the  reason  of  that,  do  you  think?' 
said  her  father. 

1  Because  there  is  room  for  the  ice  to  ex- 
pand,' said  Lucy. 

'  But  does  the  ice  expand,  father  ?'  said 
Harry. 

His  father  answered — '  At  the  moment  of 
freezing,  the  parts  of  ice  are  found  to  be  far- 
ther from  one  another,  than  the  parts  of  the 
water  were.' 

'  Does  cold  get  between  the  parts  of  the 
water  ?'  said  Lucy. 

'  No,  no,'  said  Harry — 'cold  is  not  a  thing  ; 
father  told  us,  that  it  is  only  a  word,  that  ex- 
presses want  of  heat.' 

'  Call  it  what  you  will,'  said  Lucy,  'but  still 
I  do  not  understand. — What  is  it,  father,  that 
gets  between  the  parts  of  the  ice,  and  makes  it 
take  up  more  room  at  the  moment  it  freezes  V 

1  I  do  not  know,  my  dear,'  said  her  father. 

'  You  don't  know,  father  ! — I  thought  you 
knew  every  thing.' 

'  No,  my  dear,'  said  her  father — '  There 
are  a  great  many  things  of  which  I  know  as 
little  as  you  do  —  It  is  difficult  to  know 


200  EAKLY    LESSONS. 

any  thing  well.  Upon  this  very  subject,  of 
which  you  were  speaking,  there  are  different 
opinions,  and  I  do  not  like  to  tell  you  any 
thing,  of  which  I  am  not  sure.' 

'  But,  father,'  continued  Lucy,  '  one  thing 
you  can  tell  me,  or  I  can  tell  you,  that  ice  is 
the  same  thing  as  water,  and  water  is  the 
same  thing  as  ice,  is  not  it  so  ?  except  that 
one  is  fluid  and  the  other  solid.' 

'  Not  quite  the  same — water  is  ice,  with 
heat  added  to  it,  and  a  little  air.' 

1  Then  I  should  have  thought,'  said  Lucy, 
'  that  water  ought  to  take  up  more  room  than 
ice.' 

1  Why,  my  dear  ?' 

'  Because  water  is  ice  and  something  more 
— something  added  to  it.  We  saw,  when  we 
heated  the  bladder,  that  hot  air  took  up  more 
room  than  cold  air,  because  it  was  air,  and 
something  added  to  it  ;  for  the  same  reason,  I 
should  have  thought,  that,  if  you  add  heat  to 
ice,  and  so  turn  it  into  water  again,  that  the  wa- 
ter should  take  up  more  room  than  the  ice  ;  be- 
cause, I  say,'  cried  Lucy,  struggling  to  explain 
herself,  '  the  water  is  ice,  and  something  more 
— heat  is  added  to  it,  you  know.' 

'  I  understand  you,  my  dear,'  said  her  fa- 
ther, '  and  what  you  say  is  very  reasonable. 
I  should  have  thought  as  you  do,  if  I  had  not 
seen  the  experiment  tried  ;  but  we  find,  from 
experience,  that  this  is  not  the  case.  How« 
ever,  try  the  experiment  for  yourself.' 

'  So  I  will,  father,'  cried  Lucy.     So  we  will, 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  201 

and  this  very  night  too,  if  it  freezes  :  and  I 
hope  it  will  freeze ;  for,  though  I  don't  like  the 
cold,  I  shall  like  very  much  to  try  this  experi- 
ment; and  I  have  a  little  bottle,  and  I  will  fill  it 
with  water,  put  it  out  of  my  window,  and  in  the 
morning  I  dare  say  we  shall  find  it  burst.' 

1  So  it  will,'  said  Harry,  '  if  the  neck  is 
narrow.' 

'  But,'  said  his  father,  '  I  can  give  you  a 
bottle  with  a  very  wide  neck  :  if  you  fill  this 
with  water,  up  to  the  neck,  either  the  bottle 
will  break,  or  the  ice  will  not  only  fill  the 
bottle,  but  will  shoot  up  through  the  neck  of 
the  bottle,  like  a  stopper.' 

'  But  what  you  wanted  to  try,  I  thought, 
was,  whether  water  takes  up  less  room  than 
ice,'  said  Harry  ;  '  so,  to  make  the  proof  quite 
exact,  you  should  take  the  very  ice,  that  has 
been  frozen  in  the  bottle,  and  melt  it,  that  is, 
put  heat  to  it  :  and  then,  when  it  is  water 
again,  try  whether  it  takes  up  more  or  less 
room,  or  the  same,  that  it  did  before.' 

'  Remember,  you  must  melt  it  with  a  gentle 
heat,  else  the  heat  might  evaporate  some  of 
the  water,'  said  their  father. 

'  We  will  take  care,  father,'  and  we  will 
try  all  this,'  said  Lucy.  <  1  love  trying  exper- 
iments, especially  when  we  do  it  together, 
and  when  you,  father,  are  interested  about 
them,  as  we  go  on.' 

'  Yes,  and  I  love  to  have  something  to  do 
and  something  to  think  of,'  said  Harry. 

'  And  something  to  feel  eager  to  go  to  again 


202 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


the  next  day,'  said  Lucy.  '  I  like  to  feel  cu- 
rious to  know  how  the  thing  will  turn  out.' 

'  Well,  now  turn  out  of  my  way,  my  dear,' 
said  her  father,  '  for  you  are  so  close  to  my 
elbow,  that  I  cannot  whet  my  razor/ 

It  happened  this  day,  that  Lucy  found,  in 
one  of  her  drawers,  a  number  of  horse-chest- 
nuts, which  she  had  collected  in  the  autumn, 
and  which  she  had  intended  to  plant  ;  but, 
having  forgotten  them,  they  had  lain  in  this 
drawer  for  nearly  six  weeks,  and  they  had 
become  a  little  mouldy.  Lucy,  finding  that 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  203 

they  were  spoilt,  threw  them  into  the  fire. 
A  few  minutes  after  she  had  thrown  them  into 
the  fire,  she  was  startled  by  hearing  a  noise, 
as  loud  as  the  noise  made  by  a  pop-gun  ;  and 
she  saw  bits  of  coal,  and  fire,  and  chestnut, 
thrown  out  on  the  carpet,  to  the  distance  of  a 
yard  from  the  hearth.  While  she  was  stoop- 
ing to  pick  up  these  bits,  another  pop  was 
heard,  another  chestnut  burst,  and  more  bits 
of  coal,  on  fire,  were  thrown  out,  and  one  of 
them  hit  her  arm  and  burnt  her  a  little.  No- 
body was  with  her — She  ran  into  the  next 
room  directly,  knowing  that  her  father  was 
there,  and  she  called  him,  and  told  him  what 
had  happened,  and  asked  him  what  she  should 
do.  He  went  immediately,  and  took  all  the 
chestnuts  out  of  the  fire.  Harry  and  his 
mother  came  while  he  was  doing  this  ;  they 
were  glad  that  Lucy  was  not  much  hurt,  and 
that  no  mischief  had  been  done.  Her  father 
then  explained  to  her  the  cause  of  what  had 
happened  ;  he  told  her,  that  the  heat  of  the 
fire,  mixing  with  the  water  in  the  wet,  or 
mouldy  chestnuts,  had  turned  the  water  in- 
to steam,  which  takes  up  more  room  than 
water  ;  and  that  the  steam,  being  confined  by 
the  outside  skin  of  the  chestnuts,  had,  to 
make  room  for  itself,  burst  through  that  skin, 
and  had  caused  this  sudden  explosion. 

After  having  explained  this  to  Lucy,  her  fa- 
ther gave  her  an  account  of  an  accident,  which 
had  happened  to  him,  when  he  was  a  child. 
He  told  her,  that  he  had  thought  that  he  could 


204  EARLY    LESSONS. 

make  a  large  lead  pencil,  such  a.s  he  had  seen 
used  for  ruling  children's  copy  books;  accord- 
ingly, he  put  some  lead  into  a  fire-shovel,  and 
bid  his  sister  hold  it  over  the  fire  to  melt.  In 
the  mean  time,  he  fixed  upright  a  bit  of  elder 
tree,  out  of  which  part  of  the  pith  had  been 
scooped.  The  wood  was  not  quite  dry.  When 
the  lead  was  melted,  he  took  the  shovel  from 
his  sister,  and  poured  it  into  the  hole,  in  the 
piece  of  elder,  from  which  the  pith  had  been 
scooped  :  but,  to  his  great  surprise  and  terror, 
the  melted  lead  was  driven  out  of  the  wood 
with  such  force,  as  actually  to  strike  against 
the  cieling.  None  of  the  lead  struck  his  face ; 
but,  had  he  been  looking  over  it,  probably 
his  eyes  would  have  been  burnt  out. 

'  So  you  see,  my  dear  Lucy,'  concluded  her 
father,  '  that  it  is  particularly  necessary,  that 
children  should  be  careful  in  trying  experi- 
ments, as  they  are  not  acquainted  with  the  na- 
ture or  properties  of  the  things,  with  which 
they  meddle.  When  I  filled  the  bit  of  wet  elder 
wood  with  hot  lead,  I  did  not  know,  or  recol- 
lect, that  the  heat  of  the  lead  would  turn  the 
water  into  steam,  and  the  expanding  suddenly 
of  this  steam  would  cause  an  explosion.' 

This  story  brought  to  Harry's  recollection  an 
account,  which  his  mother  had  read  to  him,  of 
another  accident.  Lucy  had  not  been  present 
when  this  was  read,  and  her  brother  now  ran 
for  the  book,  and  showed  her  the  passage.  She 
began  to  read — and  it  was  as  follows  : — 

'  At  the  cannon  foundery  in  Moorfields — •' 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  205 

Lucy  stopped  at  the  first  line,  and  said,  that 
she  did  not  know  what  was  meant  by  a  cannon 
foundery,  and  she  did  not  know  where  Moor- 
fields  is.  Her  father  told  her,  that  Moorfields 
is  the  name  of  a  part  of  London  ;  and  that  a 
cannon  fonndery  is  a  place,  where  cannon  are 
made ;  a  foundery  is  a  place  where  metals  are 
melted,  and  cast  into  different  shapes.  The 
word  is  taken  from  the  French  word  fondre, 
to  melt. Lucy  had  seen  a  cannon  ;  there- 
fore now  she  quite  understood  this  first  line  of 
what  she  was  going  to  read :  Harry  was 
rather  impatient,  at  her  requiring  so  long  an 
explanation  ;  but  her  father  said  she  was 
right,  not  to  go  on,  without  understanding 
completely  what  she  heard.  Lucy  then 
read — 

'  At  the  cannon  foundery,  in  Moorfields,  hot 
metal  was  poured  into  a  mould,  that  acciden- 
tally contained  a  small  quantity  of  water, 
which  was  instantly  converted  into  steam, 
and  caused  an  explosion,  that  blew  the  foun- 
dery to  pieces.  A  similar  accident  happened 
at  a  foundery  in  Newcastle,  which  occurred 
from  a  little  water  having  insinuated  itself 
into  a  hollow  brass  ball,  that  was  thrown  into 
the  melting  pot.' 

Lucy  was  astonished  to  hear,  that  water, 
when  turned  into  steam,  could  have  su^h 
force  ; — from  the  facts,  which  she  had  just 
heard  and  read,  she  perceived,  that  it  is^ieces- 
sary  to  be  careful,  in  trying  experiments,  and 
that  it  is  useful  to  know  the  properties  of 


206  HARRY    AND    LUCY. 

bodies,  that  we  may  avoid  hurting  either  our- 
selves or  other  people. 

This  evening  it  was  a  frost.  Harry  and 
Lucy  saw,  that  the  quicksilver  in  the  ther- 
mometer was  at  the  freezing  point.  They  de- 
termined now  to  try  the  experiments,  which 
they  wished  to  try,  about  ice  and  water.  Their 
father  gave  them  a  wide-necked  bottle,  and 
Harry  filled  it  up  to  the  bottom  of  the  neck, 
leaving  the  neck  empty,  but  he  did  not  cork  it. 
At  the  same  time,  Lucy  took  a  common  laven- 
der-water bottle,  that  had  wide  shoulders,  and 
a  very  narrow  neck  ;  this  she  also  filled  up  to 
the  bottom  of  the  neck,  leaving  the  neck  emp- 
ty. Harry  next  filled  a  common  phial  bottle 
up  to  the  mouth,  stopped  it  closely  with  a 
cork,  and  tied  the  cork  down  strongly  to  the 
neck  of  the  bottle.  They  hung  all  these 
bottles  out  of  doors,  on  the  same  place,  on  the 
north  side  of  the  house. 

Their  father  went  this  day  to  dine  with  a 
friend,  at  some  distance  from  home  ;  he  was 
not  to  return  till  the  next  day,  at  dinner  time  ; 
so  that,  the  next  morning,  before  breakfast, 
they  missed  their  accustomed  lesson  from 
their  father,  for  which  they  were  sorry.  Lucy 
observed,  that  her  father's  room  looked  dismal 
without  him,  and,  as  there  was  an  unusual 
silence  there,  which  the  children  did  not  like, 
they  went  off  to  the  gallery,  and  comforted 
themseVes,  by  making  as  much  noise  as 
possible,  galloping  up  and  down  the  gallery, 
and  playiivgr  at  hare  and  hound.  It  was 


EARLY   LESSONS.  207 

snowing,  so  that  they  could  not  go  out  to 
look  at  their  bottles,  and  it  continued  to 
snow  for  some  hours,  till  long  after  the  time, 
when  they  had  finished  the  day's  lessons 
with  their  mother. 

At  last  the  snow  ceased  ;  and,  as  the  sun 
began  to  shine,  the  children  were  now  afraid, 
that  the  water  in  their  bottles  might,  if  it  had 
been  frozen,  be  soon  thawed,  therefore  they 
put  on  their  hats  and  great  coats  as  fast  as  they 
could,  and  ran  out  to  the  wall,  on  the  north 
side  of  the  house,  and  to  the  place  where  they 
had  hung  up  their  three  bottles  the  preceding 
day.  They  found,  that  the  lavender-water 
bottle,  and  the  bottle  that  was  tightly  corked, 
were  broken  ;  but  the  bottle  with  the  wide 
mouth  had  not  been  broken.  The  ice  had 
swelled  out  through  the  neck  of  the  bottle,  and 
some  way  above  it,  looking  like  a  stopper. 
This  bottle  they  brought  into  their  mother's 
dressing  room,  who  put  it  upon  a  saucer,  in  a 
warm  place,  and  they  left  it  there,  that  the  ice 
might  melt.  In  the  mean  time,  they  went  to 
help  their  mother  to  paste  some  prints  into  a 
large  paper  book.  They  were  longer  at  this 
work  than  they  had  expected  to  be  ;  they  had 
but  just  finished  it,  when  the  dressing-bell 
rang,  they  then  recollected  suddenly  their  ex- 
periment, and  they  said  they  must  go  and  look 
whether  the  ice  was  melted  ;  but  their  handa 
were  now  covered  with  paste,  and  their 
mother  advised  them  first  to  wash  their  hands 
and  dress  themselves,  that  they  might  b« 


208  HARRY    AND  LUCY. 

sure  to  be  ready,  before  their  father  should 
come  home  to  dinner. 

Harry  and  Lucy  ran  away,  saying,  'Which 
will  be  dressed  first  T — And  in  a  few  minutes 
they  came  hurrying  from  their  different  rooms, 
eager  to  get  to  their  mother's  dressing-room. 

'I'm  ready  !  I  was  here  before  you  !'  cried 
Harry,  bursting  in. 

'  Gently,  gently,  my  dear  Harry,'  said  his 
mother,  '  and  shut  the  door  after  you.' 

'  Lucy's  coming  in,  ma'am — Ha  !  Lucy,  I 
was  here  first.' 

'  But  I  had  a  great  deal  more  to  do,  broth- 
er,' said  Lucy. 

Her  mother  turned  and  looked  at  her,  as 
she  came  into  the  room,  and  observed,  that 
Lucy's  hair  was  not  combed  smoothly,  and 
that  one  of  her  shoes  was  untied — 

'  And  your  hands,  Lucy  ?'  said  her  mother, 
1  they  are  not  clean — What  is  all  this  upon 
your  hands  T 

1  Only  the  paste,  ma'am,  with  which  I  was 
pasting  those  prints ;  but  I  did  wash  my 
hands,  I  assure  you,  mother.' 

'  Yes }  but  you  did  not  wash  them  well,  I 
assure  you,  daughter — so  go  and  wash  them 
again,  before  you  do  any  thing  else  ;  you 
must  not  neglect  to  keep  yourself  clean  and 
neat.  This  pocket-hole  of  your  frock  is  torn 
almost  from  the  top  to  the  bottom.' 

1  Yes,  mother ;  I  tore  it  as  I  was  coming  down 
stairs  ;  it  caught  upon  a  nail  in  the  passage/ 

'  Go  and  put  on  another  frock,  and  mend 


EARLY    LESSONS.  209 

this  pocket-hole,  before  you  do  any  thing 
else,  Lucy,'  said  her  mother  : — '  It  is  more 
necessary,  that  a  girl  should  be  clean  and 
neat,  than  that  she  should  try  experiments.' 

Lucy  blushed,  and  went  away  to  do  what 
her  mother  desired. 

'  Mother, lam  sure  it  was  partly  my  fault,' 
said  Harry,  l  because  I  hurried  her  too  much  ; 
but,  to  make  amends,  I  know  what  I  will  do 
for  her.' 

Then  he  ran  for  a  pair  of  pincers,  which 
his  father  had  given  to  him  ;  with  some  little 
difficulty  he  took  the  nail  out,  on  which  Lu- 
cy's gown  had  been  caught  ;  and,  with  some 
little  difficulty,  Lucy  washed  the  paste  off 
her  hands,  and  mended  her  gown. 

When  they  went  to  look  at  their  experiment, 
they  found  that  the  ice,  which  they  had  left 
in  the  bottle,  was  quite  melted,  and  that  the 
water  had  sunk  to  the  place,  where  it  had 
been  before  it  was  frozen.  The  top  of  the 
water  just  came  to  the  bottom  of  the  neck  of 
the  bottle.  So  they  were  convinced  that  wa- 
ter takes  up  less  room  than  ice  ;  or,  in  other 
words,  that  water,  when  it  is  frozen,  takes  up 
more  room,  than  it  does  when  it  is  not 
frozen. 

When  their  father  came  home  this  day  to 
dinner,  Harry  and  Lucy  told  him  the  result, 
or  end,  of  their  experiments  ;  and  they  said, 
that  the  experiments  had  turned  out,  just  as 
he  had  foretold  that  they  would.  Their  father 
said,  that  he  was  glad  that  they  had  tried  the 
18 


210  I-IARKY    AND    LUCY. 

experiments,  and  had  satisfied  themselves  oi 
the  truth. 

After  dinner,  the  children  ran  eagerly  for  the 
wide-necked  bottle,  that  they  might  show 
their  father,  that  the  water  was  really  exactly 
at  the  place,  where  it  was  before  it  had  been 
frozen.  They  had  left  the  bottle  on  the 
hearth,  in  their  mother's  dressing-room  ;  and, 
as  they  knew  exactly  the  spot  where  they 
had  left  it,  they  thought  they  could  find  it 
without  a  candle,  especially  as  they  expected 
that  there  would  be  a  little  glimmering  light 
from  the  fire  in  the  dressing-room.  However 
the  fire,  being  almost  out,  they  could  scarcely 
see  their  way.  They  felt  about,  near  the 
corner  of  the  chimney,  but  no  bottle  was 
there  ;  they  felt  water  on  the  hearth. 

'  O  !  our  bottle  is  broken  !'  exclaimed  Lu- 
cy— '  Who  has  done  this  V 

1  Are  you  sure  it  is  broken  ? — May  be  it  is 
not,'  said  Harry  ;  '  I  will  open  the  shutters, 
and  then  we  shall  see  by  the  moonlight.' 

He  drew  up  the  curtain,  unbarred  and  open- 
ed the  shutters  ;  then  they  saw,  alas  !  that 
their  bottle  was  broken.  The  dog  was  lying 
before  the  fire,  and,  in  taking  his  customary 
place,  had  thrown  down  the  bottle. 

'  O,  our  dear,  dear  wide-necked  bottle, 
with  which  I  intended  to  do  so  many  things  !' 
cried  Lucy. 

'  Fie  !  fie  !  naughty  dog ! — down  ! — down, 
sirrah  !'  cried  Harry,  as  the  dog,  now  wa- 


EARLY    LESSONS.  211 

kening,  attempted  to  leap  up  and  caress  him 
— Down,  sirrah  !' 

'  But  don't  call  him  sirrah  !  Don't  be  in 
passion  with  him,'  said  Lucy  : — '  He  did  not 
know — he  did  not  mean  to  do  us  any  harm  ; 
it  was  our  fault,  for  leaving  the  bottle  here, 
just  in  his  way.  Come  here,  poor  fellow,' 
added  she,  as  the  dog  was  slinking  away 
ashamed.  Harry,  ashamed  too  of  his  anger, 
joined  Lucy  in  patting  him,  and  both  he  and 
his  sister  were  now  pleased  with  themselves, 
for  bearing  their  disappointment  with  good 
humor.  The  moon  shone  full  on  the  window, 
and  Harry,  as  he  went  to  close  the  shutters 
again,  called  Lucy  to  look  at  '  the  beautiful 
blue  sky,  and  the  glorious  number  of  bright 
stars  in  the  heavens.' 

Lucy,  as  she  looked  and  admired  them, 
recollected  something  she  had  read,  in  Sand- 
ford  and  Merton,  about  the  names  and  places 
of  the  stars ;  the  pole  star,  and  Charles's 
wain,  and  the  great  bear,  and  the  little  bear. 
At  the  time  when  she  had  read  it,  she  had 
not  understood  it,  because  she  had  never  ob- 
served the  places  of  the  stars  in  the  sky  ;  but 
this  night,  she  and  Harry  read  over  that  part 
of  Sandford  and  Merton  again ;  and,  when 
they  looked  at  the  stars,  and  compared  them 
with  the  description,  they  understood  it  per- 
fectly. They  went  on  to  read  the  account  of 
the  use,  which  little  Sandford  made  of  his 
knowledge  of  the  stars,  when  he  lost  his  way 


212  HARRY    AND    LUCY. 

one  night  in  crossing  a   great  moor,  between 
his  father's  house  and  his  uncle's. 

Harry  and  Lucy  were  glad,  that  they  had 
found  something  entertaining  to  read  to  them- 
selves ;  because  their  father  and  mother  were 
both  engaged  with  their  own  employments 
this  night,  and  could  not  attend  to  them. 
While  they  were  reading,  Lucy  wanted  her 
pencil,  to  draw  for  Harry  the  figure  of 
Charles's  wain,  and  to  make  the  map  of  the 
sky,  with  dots  for  each  star,  which  Tommy 
Morton  had  proposed  to  make.  But  Lucy 
had  not  her  pencil  in  her  pocket ;  she  had  left 
it  in  her  mother's  dressing-room,  on  the  chim- 
ney-piece, as  well  as  she  recollected ;  and, 
when  she  went  to  look  for  the  pencil,  by  the 
fire  light,  she  saw  the  pieces  of  her  broken 
bottle :  she  had  a  great  mind  to  put  them 
into  the  fire,  for  she  knew  that  glass  would 
melt,  if  it  was  put  into  the  fire.  She  recollect- 
ed the  print  of  the  glass-blower,  which  she 
had  seen  in  her  Book  of  Trades,  and  she 
wished  much  to  see  glass  melted.  But  recol- 
lecting also  at  this  moment,  that  she  had  done 
mischief,  by  throwing  the  chestnuts  into  the 
fire,  she  determined  not  to  throw  this  glass 
into  the  fire,  without  asking  first,  whether  it 
would  do  any  harm.  So  she  carried  the  bro- 
ken glass  carefully  to  the  room  where  her 
father  and  mother  were  sitting,  and  she  asked, 
if  she  might  put  it  into  the  fire. 

Her  father,  pleased  by  her  prudence,  was 
so  good,  as  to  leave   what  he  was  doing,  to 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


213 


show  Lucy  what  she  wished  to  see.  He  put 
the  bits  of  glass  into  the  hottest  part  of  the 
fire,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  glass  became 
red-hot.  Then  he  sent  Harry  to  his  work- 
shop for  a  pair  of  pincers.  Harry  knew  the 
names,  and  shape,  and  places  of  all  his  father's 
tools  ;  so  he  easily  found  the  pincers,  and  he 
brought  them.  Lucy  blew  the  fire,  till  it  be- 
came of  a  white  heat  ;  then  her  father  took 
the  thick  part  of  the  bottom  of  the  glass  out  of 
the  fire.  It  was  now  melted  into  a  lump,  he 
held  it  by  one  end  with  the  hot  tongs,  and 


214  HARRY    AND    LUCY. 

desired  Harry  to  take  hold  of  the  other  end 
of  the  glass  with  the  pincers,  and  to  try  to 
pull  it  out  as  far  as  he  could.  To  Lucy's 
surprise,  the  glass  was  now  so  soft  and  yield- 
ing, that  Harry  pulled  it  out  as  easily  as  he 
could  have  pulled  out  warm  sealing-wax  ; 
and  he  drew  out  the  glass  across  the  little 
table,  at  which  his  mother  was  sitting. — 
When  drawn  out,  the  glass  looked  like  a 
thin  shining  thread — like  what  is  called  spun 
sugar — that  is,  sugar  which  has  been  heat- 
ed and  melted,  and  drawn  out  in  a  similar 
(or  like)  manner. 

Harry  and  Lucy  were  entertained  by  seeing 
this,  and  they  asked  several  questions  about 
the  manner,  in  which  different  glass  things 
are  made — they  asked,  for  instance,  how  the 
panes  of  glass,  which  they  saw  in  the  win- 
dows are  made ;  and  how  looking-glasses  are 
made ;  and  they  wondered  how  the  cut  glass, 
or  that  which  they  saw  in  chandeliers,  is 
made.  But  their  father  told  them,  that  they 
could  not  possibly  learn  so  many  things  at 
once.  That  perhaps,  at  some  future  time,  he 
should  have  an  opportunity  of  taking  them 
to  see  a  glasshouse,  and  of  showing  them 
how  different  kinds  of  glass  are  made. 

'  To-morrow,  father,  will  you  take  us  ?' 
said  Lucy  ;  '  or  next  week  ?' 

'  No,  neither  to-morrow,  my  dear,  nor  next 
week  —  you  must  not  see,  nor  attempt  to 
learn  a  variety  of  things  at  once,  else  you  will 
learn  nothing  well,  but  will  only  have  a 


EARLY    LESSONS.  215 

j-urable  of  things  in  your  head.  Now  go  to 
bed,  my  dear  children.' 

Then  Harry  put  the  pincers  into  their  place, 
and  threw  the  bits  of  glass  into  the  fire  ;  and 
Lucy  put  by  their  books,  their  pencil  and  pa- 
per, and  their  map  of  the  stars  ;  they  were 
careful  to  put  all  these  things  into  their  places, 
because  their  mother  had  advised  them  not  to 
make  it  troublesome  or  inconvenient  to  show 
them  experiments,  or  to  let  them  amuse  them- 
selves in  the  same  room  with  her  and  with 
their  father. 

'  Now  we  have  put  all  our  things  into  their 
places,  mother,'  said  Lucy  ;  and,  after  we 
have  gone  to  bed,  you  will  not  have  the  trouble 
of  doing  that  for  us — Good  night.  You  will 
like,  that  we  should  try  experiments  another 
time,  I  hope,  mother,  because  we  have  not 
been  troublesome.' 


In  the  morning,  Harry  and  Lucy  went  to 
their  father's  room  ;  and  Harry  observed  that 
they  had  lost  a  day  by  their  father's  not  be- 
ing at  home.  .'So  now,'  added  he,  l  we  must 
make  up  for  it,  and  get  on  to  the  barometer.' 

Lucy  was,  at  this  instant,  mixing  up  the 
lather  for  her  father,  who  was  going  to  shave. 
She  took  a  tobacco-pipe  and  blew  a  bubble 
into  the  air ;  and  when  it  burst,  she  said — 

'  Do,  Harry,  let  me  ask  one  more  question 
about  a  bubble.  Father,  when  a  bubble  bursts, 


216  HARKY    AND    LUCY. 

does  the  air,  which  was  withinside  of  it,  stay 
where  it  was — or  what  becomes  of  it  V 

1 1  believe  that  it  does  not  stay  exactly  in 
the  same  place  where  it  was,'  said  her  father ; 
'  it  spreads,  and  mixes  with  the  rest  of  the  air 
in  the  room.  It  is  supposed,  that,  when  there 
is  less  air  in  one  place  than  in  another,  the 
air,  which  is  collected  in  the  place  which 
contains  the  most  of  it,  rushes  into  that  which 
contains  the  least  of  it.' 

'  But  what  makes  some  places  fuller  of  air 
than  others  ?'  said  Lucy. 

Her  father  said,  that  he  did  not  know ;  but 
he  reminded  Lucy,  that  air  can  be  squeezed 
into  a  smaller  space,  than  it  usually  occupies. 

'  Why  it  occupies  the  whole  world,  does  it 
not  ?'  said  Harry. 

'  No,  brother,  not  the  whole  world,  you 
know ;  for  stones,  and  trees,  and  animals, 
have  places  in  the  world  ;  but  the  air  is  all 
round  us,  and  is  in  every  place  where  there 
is  nothing  else.' 

1  That  is  true,  or  nearly  true,  Lucy,'  said 
her  father.  '  Harry,  do  you  know  any  other 
name,  by  which  people  sometimes  call  the 
air,  that  is  all  round  us  ?' 

Harry  said,  that  he  did  not  recollect  any 
other  name  for  it ;  but  Lucy  said  that  she 
believed  the  air  round  us  is  sometimes  called 
the  atmosphere  ;  and  she  said  she  had  heard 
people  speak  of  the  pressure  of  the  atmos- 
phere, but  that  she  did  not  clearly  understand 
what  they  meant. 


EARLY   LESSONS.  217 

'  Take  this  hand  fire-screen,  my  dear,'  said 
her  father  ;  '  move  it  upwards  and  down- 
wards, and  backwards  and  forwards. — What 
do  you  feel  ?' 

'  I  feel,  that  I  cannot  move  it  quickly,'  said 
Lucy. 

'  What  prevents  you  ? — Let  Harry  answer.' 

'  I  believe  it  is  the  wind,'  said  Harry. 

'  There  is  no  wind  in  the  room,'  said  Lucy. 

'  But  when  you  move  the  screen  backwards 
and  forwards,  I  feel  a  wind,'  said  Harry. 

'  It  is  the  moving  the  screen,  which  puts  the 
air  in  the  room  in  motion.  You  will  feel  the 
air,  or  atmosphere,  in  any  part  of  the  room,  if 
you  move  against  it,'  said  his  father.  '  Take 
this  little  parasol,  open  it — half — do  not  fasten 
it  up ;  now  run  with  it  against  the  air,  hold- 
ing the  outside  of  the  parasol  from  you.' 

Harry  did  so,  and  found,  that,  as  he  ran, 
the  parasol  was  closed  by  the  air  in  the  room, 
against  which  he  pressed.  Then  his  father 
bid  him  stand  on  a  chair,  and  let  the  parasol 
fall  when  it  was  shut ;  and  it  fell  quickly. 
He  then  opened  it ;  and  when  it  was  open, 
Harry  let  it  fall  from  the  same  height.  It 
now  fell  very  gently,  and  Harry  perceived 
that  it  fell  slowly ;  because,  when  it  was 
open,  it  was  resisted  by  the  air  underneath  it 
in  falling  :  he  also  observed,  that  the  parasol, 
as  it  fell,  made  a  wind,  as  he  said. 

His  father  then  cut  out  of  a  card  the  shape 
of  a  wheel  ;  and  he  cut  the  card  in  several 
places,  from  the  outside,  or  circumference, 
19 


218  EARLY    LESSONS. 

towards  the  centre,  and  he  turned  these  bits 
of  cards  sloping,  so  as  to  make  a  little  wind- 
mill :  he  put  a  large  pin  through  the  centre 
of  it,  and  stuck  this  pin  into  the  uncut  end  of 
a  pencil,  so  as  to  make  a  handle.  Then  he 
blew  against  it ;  and  when  he  found  that  he 
could  blow  it  round  steadily,  he  gave  it  to 
Lucy,  and,  opening  the  window,  desired  her 
to  hold  it  against  the  air  at  the  open  window, 
which,  rushing  in  suddenly,  turned  the  little 
windmill.  Then  he  shut  the  window,  and 
bid  Lucy  run  with  the  windmill,  as  fast  as 
she  could,  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the 
other,  holding  it  in  such  a  manner,  that  it 
might  press  against  the  air  as  she  ran.  She 
did  so,  and  the  windmill  turned  quickly  ; 
then  she  and  Harry  perceived,  that  the  forcing 
and  pressing  against  the  air  made  the  wind- 
mill turn  round  in  the  same  manner,  as  it  had 
done  when  the  wind  blew  against  it. 

'  Harry,'  said  his  father,  '  take  these  bel- 
lows, blow  the  fire  with  them. — What  comes 
out  of  the  nose,  or  nozzle  of  the  bellows,  as  it 
is  called?' 

'  Air  or  wind,'  said  Harry. 

'  What  makes  that  wind  V 

1  My  blowing  the  bellows,'  said  Harry. 

1  What  do  you  mean  by  blowing  the  bel- 
lows ?' 

'  Making  the  bellows  blow,'  said  Harry 

'  But  how  do  you  make  the  bellows  blow  ?' 

'  By  pulling  up  the  top  of  the  bellows,  and 
shutting  it  down,'  said  Harry. 


HARRY   AND   LUCY.  219 

:  Very  true,'  said  his  father  ;  {  that  opens 
the  bellows,  and  makes  room  for  air  to  go  into 
them/ 

'  The  air,'  said  Harry,  '  goes  in  at  the  large 
hole  in  the  bottom  of  the  bellows.' 

'  It  does  so,'  said  his  father,  and  some  goes 
in  at  the  pipe,  or  nose  :  but  what  hindeis  the 
air  from  going  out  of  the  large  hole  in  the 
bottom,  where  it  went  in  ?' 

Harry  said,  '  There  is  a  little  flap,  or  door, 
that  shuts  down,  when  I  blow  the  bellows.' 

'  That  little  door,'  said  his  father, '  or  valve, 
as  it  is  called,  falls  down  by  its  own  weight, 
when  you  blow  the  bellows,  and  it  shuts  that 
hole ;  and  the  air,  which  is  then  in  the  bellows, 
goes  out  at  the  pipe  into  the  fire.  If  1  were 
to  paste  a  piece  of  paper  over  the  hole,  in  the 
bottom  of  the  bellows,  what  would  happen  V 

I  The  air,'  said  Harry,    '  would  come  into 
the  bellows  at  the  nose,  when  I  lift  up  the 
top,  and  would  go  out  again  at  the  nose,  when 
I  shut  the  bellows.' 

'  Then,'  asked  his  father,  £  what  is  the  use 
of  the  hole,  at  the  bottom  of  the  valve  T 

I 1  believe,'  answered  Harry,   '  it  is  to  let 
the  air  in  more  quickly,  and  more  readily.' 

( It  is  so,'  said  his  father  :  '  I  will  paste  a 
piece  of  paper  over  the  hole,  in  the  bottom  of 
the  bellows,  and,  when  it  is  dry,  to-morrow, 
we  will  see  what  will  happen. — Now  let  me 
finish  dressing  myself.' 


220  EARLY   LESSONS. 

This  day  was  very  cold,  and  the  fire  in  the 
breakfast  room  did  not  burn  so  well  as  usual. 
Harry's  father,  who  was  a  man  able  to  do 
things  with  his  own  hands,  went  for  some  dry 
wood,  which  he  sawed  into  pieces  of  a  certain 
length,  convenient  for  putting  on  the  fire. 
Harry  could  saw  very  well,  and  he  assisted 
his  father ;  Lucy  stood  by,  and  she  asked 
him  to  let  her  try  to  saw.  At  first,  Lucy 
could  scarcely  move  the  saw  ;  it  seemed  to 
stick  in  the  wood,  and  she  said  she  wondered 
how  Harry  could  do  it  so  easily.  Harry 
showed  her  how  to  move  the  saw,  and  guided 
her  hand  at  first ;  and,  after  a  little  practice, 
with  some  little  patience,  she  got  on  pretty 
well.  After  she  had  sawed  the  branch  in 
two,  her  father  split  it  down  the  middle,  with 
a  cleaver,  or  a  little  hatchet.  He  did  not 
allow  the  children  yet  to  meddle  with  the 
hatchet,  lest  they  should  cut  themselves,  as  it 
requires  some  skill,  care,  and  practice,  to  be 
able  to  manage  a  hatchet  well. 

Harry  and  Lucy  wished  that  they  might 
saw  wood  every  day  for  the  fire.  They  said 
that  it  would  be  pleasant  work  ;  and  that  it 
would  warm  them  so  well,  and  that  it  would 
b3  so  useful  ! — and  they  begged  their  father 
would  lend  them  a  saw,  and  give  them  wood 
to  saw,  and  a  block,  or  a  horse,  to  saw  upon. 

Their  father  answered  :  '  My  dears,  do  you 
think  that  I  have  nothing  to  do,  but  to  get  you 
every  thing  you  want  ?  T  am  afraid,  that,  if 
I  were  to  take  the  trouble  to  provide  you  with 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  221 

these  things,  you  would  soon  grow  tired,  and, 
perhaps,  after  sawing  half  a  dozen  bits  of 
wood  to-day  and  to-morrow,  you  would  throw 
aside,  and  forget  it  ;  as  I  have  sometimes  seen 
you  throw  aside,  and  forget,  or  break  toys, 
which  delighted  you  the  first  hour  or  day 
you  possessed  them.' 

'  Break  !  O,  father  !  my  dear  father  !'  cried 
Lucy,  '  that  was  only  the  foolish  toy  that  lady 
gave  me,  of  which  I  could  not  make  any  use, 
nor  any  diversion  in  the  least ;  after  I  had  once 
looked  at  it,  there  was  an  end  of  it.  I  could 
not  move  the  wooden  woman's  arms,  nor  do 
any  thing  with  her,  so  I  forgot  her  and  left  her 
on  the  floor,  and  the  footman,  by  accident,  put 
his  foot  upon  her,  when  he  was  bringing  in 
coats.  But  indeed,  father,  1  never  break  nor 
forget  my  playthings,  if  I  can  play  with  them. 
— There's  my  cart  !  I  have  had  it  a  year,  a 
whole  year  : — And  there's  my  hoop — my  bat- 
tledores and  shuttlecock — my  jack  straws,  my 
cup  and  ball — and  my  ivory  alphabet.' 

'  And  there's  my  cart,  and  my  pump,  and 
my  bricks,  and  my  top,  and  our  dissected 
maps,'  cried  Harry,  '  I  am  never  tired  of  them, 
I  know. — And  there  is  no  danger,  father,  that 
we  should  grow  tired  of  a  saw,  if  you  will  only 
be  so  good  as  to  give  us  one ;  because  it  will 
always  give  us  something  to  do,  and,  as  Lucy 
says,  we  grow  tired  only  of  things  that  we 
cannot  make  any  use  of.  Pray,  father,  try  us.' 

Their  father  was  so  kind,  as  to  grant  their 
request ;  he  lent  them  a  saw,  and  a  ho?-se,  that 


222  EARLY   LESSONS. 

held  the  wood  which  they  wanted  to  saw ; 
and  he  allowed  them  to  work  in  a  little  room, 
on  one  side  of  the  hall,  where  there  was  no 
furniture,  but  which  had  been  used  as  a  sort  of 
lumber  room.  Here  was  kept  a  provision  of 
wood  for  the  winter,  and  there  was  plenty  of 
branches,  which  the  children  could  saw ;  their 
father  told  them  to  saw  these  into  pieces  of 
about  a  foot  or  eighteen  inches  long  ;  and  he 
said,  that  when  they  were  sawed  into  these 
pieces,  he  would  have  them  split. 

'  Father  !'  cried  Harry,  '  let  us  do  it  all  our- 
selves. I  can  split  them,  I  assure  you  ;  and 
we  will  take  care  not  to  cut  ourselves,  if  you 
will  lend  us  the  little  hatchet.  Now,  father, 
I  will  show  you  how  well  I  can  use  the 
hatchet.  Lucy  may  saw,  and  I  will  split.' 

Their  father  however  would  not  lend  them 
the  hatchet  yet.  He  told  them,  that,  if  they 
sawed  only  small  branches,  such  as  he  would 
give  them,  these  need  not  be  split  asunder  af- 
terwards. They  sawed  this  morning  wood 
enough  for  the  evening's  fire.  This  evening 
they  enjoyed  the  first  fire  made  with  wood  of 
their  own  sawing — the  first  fire  acquired  by 
the  labor  of  their  own  hands. 

'  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  delightful  blaze 
in  your  life,  mother  ?'  said  Lucy. 

'  Father,'  said  Harry,  '  this  fire  has  warmed 
us  twice — I  mean,  the  sawing  the  wood  wann- 
ed us,  while  we  were  at  work  ;  and  now  it 
warms  us  again  whilst  it  is  burning.  Mother, 
would  you  be  so  good  to  begin  to  read  about 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  223 

the  way  of  walking  in  dangerous  places,  now 
Lucy  and  I  are  sitting  so  comfortable  at  your 
feet,  and  the  fire  is  blazing  so  finely  ?' 

Their  kind  mother  smiled,  and  she  began 
to  read  as  follows  : — 

'  In  the  neighborhood  of  Mount  Pilate,  there 
are  people  who  give  lessons  in  the  art  of 
walking,  as  regularly  as  lessons  in  dancing 
are  given  elsewhere.  It  is  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance, in  certain  dangerous  places,  to  know 
which  foot  to  make  use  of,  or  which  hand  to 
use,  to  preserve  the  balance  of  the  body  ;  and 
when  you  are  to  step  on  sharp  pointed  rocks, 
you  must  be  sure  when  you  are  to  put  down 
your  heel  or  your  toe  first ;  for  want  of  in- 
struction, or  for  want  of  attending  to  these 
instructions,  you  might  fall  down  a  precipice, 
or  be  obliged  to  remain  in  a  painful  attitude, 
without  daring  to  go  forwards  or  backwards. 

'  The  shoes  usually  worn  on  these  moun- 
tains are  merely  soles  of  thin  light  wood,  tied 
on  the  foot  with  leather  straps.  There  are 
iron  horse-shoe  nails,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
soles,  which  stand  out  from  the  sole  near  half 
an  inch.  The  mountain  climber  depends  chief- 
ly on  his  stick,  or  pole.  This  pole  must  be 
light  and  pliable,  and  yet  strong  enough  to 
bear  the  weight  of  a  man,  if  it  should  happen, 
as  it  sometimes  does,  that  the  pole  is  stretched 
from  one  point  of  a  rock  to  another,  over  the 
man's  head,  while  he  clings,  with  both  hands  to 
lt,as  he  passes  beneath.  The  point  of  the  pole 
h>  armed  with  iron  at  least  two  inches  long. 


224  EARLY    LESSONS. 

*  When  a  man  wants  to  go  down  a  steep 
descent,  he  does  not  set  out  with  his  face 
turned  towards  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  because 
his  whole  body  would  be  out  of  a  perpendicu- 
lar line ' 

'  Out  of  a  perpendicular  line  !'  interrupted 
Lucy — '  Mother,  I  am  not  clear  about  per- 
pendicular and  horizontal — ' 

'  No  !'  cried  Harry,  starting  up  ;  '  then,  my 
dear  Lucy,  I  will  make  you  clear  about  them 
in  an  instant,  and  for  ever.  Look,'  cried  he, 
as  he  stood  bolt  upright,  '  now  I  am  perpen- 
dicular ;  and  now,'  continued  he,  throwing 
himself  flat  down  on  the  carpet,  '  now  I  am 
horizontal.' 

'  Thank  you. — Now,  mother,  I  shall  un- 
derstand it.' 

'  The  man's  whole  body  would  be  out  of  a 
perpendicular  line,  so  that,  when  he  advanced 
three  or  four  steps,  as  the  hill  becomes  steeper, 
he  would  fall  forward  ;  therefore,  the  man 
turns  his  side  toward  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 
In  this  position,  he  has  one  foot  higher  than 
the  other ;  if  his  left  side  is  toward  the  bottom 
of  the  hill,  his  right  foot  must  stand  highest ; 
this  must  be  observed,  that  you  may  under- 
stand the  manner  in  which  he  then  makes  use 
of  his  stick.  He  holds  it  sloping  with  both  his 
hands,  one  of  its  points  resting  against  the 
ground  ;  and  this  point  must  be  above  the 
place  where  his  highest  foot  stands.  The  right 
hand  must  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  stick,  and 
the  left  is  at  the  middle  of  it.  In  this  attitude 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  225 

the  man  leans  on  the  stick,  with  which  he 
rakes  or  scrapes  away  the  ground,  as  he  de- 
scends the  hill.  You  may  imagine  with  what 
swiftness  he  goes,  and  without  the  least  dan- 
ger ;  because  his  body,  leaning  on  the  stick, 
and  approaching  the  ground,  there  is  no  dan- 
ger of  falling.  If,  by  chance,  the  man's  feet 
were  to  slip,  the  weight  of  his  body  leaning 
on  the  stick,  it  is  necessary  only  to  slide  the 
left  hand,  which  was  in  the  middle,  towards 
the  bottom  of  the  stick.  Then  it  is  impossi- 
ble, that  the  man  should  slip  far  ;  because  the 
stick,  becoming  almost  perpendicular,  and  be- 
ing grasped  near  the  bottom  by  both  his 
hands,  it  catches  against  the  least  obstacle  or 
hollow  in  the  ground  ;  and  this  is  sufficient  to 
stop  the  man  from  sliding  further  downwards. 

'  In  places  where  there  are  a  great  number 
of  loose  pebbles,  as  the  most  skilful  walker 
might  slide  down  along  with  the  loose  pebbles, 
two  or  three  walkers  join,  and  agree  to  go  to- 
gether ;  they  provide  themselves  with  a  long 
pole,  which  they  all  hold  with  one  hand  ;  by 
these  means,  if  one  slips,  the  others  hold  him 
up.  If  all  the  party  slip,  which  may  chance 
to  happen,  he,  who  first  quits  his  hold  of  the 
pole,  is  punished  in  whatever  way  the  others 
think  proper.' 

'  My  dear  little  Lucy,'  said  her  mother,  put- 
ting down  the  book,  and  looking  at  Lucy, 
whose  eyes  were  closed,  and  whose  head  was 
nodding — 

'  My  dear  little  girl,  you  are  just  asleep.' 


220  EARLY   LESSONS. 

'  Aileep  ! — O  no,  mother,  I  am  not  asleep 
at  all,'  cried  Lucy,  rousing  herself. 

'  My  dear,  there  is  nothing  shameful  in  be- 
ing sleepy,  especially  at  the  hour,  when  it  is 
time  for  you  to  go  to  bed.  Only  do  not  let  me 
read  to  you,  when  you  are  sleepy,  because 
you  cannot  possibly  attend  to  what  is  read  ; 
and  you  would  get  the  habit  of  hearing  my 
voice  going  on,  without  minding  or  under- 
standing what  I  say.' 

'  O,  mother  !  I  beg  your  pardon  :  I  assure 
you  I  heard  the  last  words  you  read — it  was 
something  about  punished  as  they  thought 
proper  ;  but  I  believe,  mother,  I  was  sleeping 
a  little,  too,  for  those  words  joined  somehow 
with  my  dream,  and  I  was  dreaming  about  a 
saw,  and  sawing  wood ;  and  I  thought,  that, 
as  I  was  sawing,  I  slipped,  and  saw,  and 
wood,  and  horse  and  all,  slipped,  and  were 
sliding  down  a  hill  ;  and  just  then  I  heard 
the  words  punished  as  they  thought  proper.' 

'  I  know  the  reason  she  is  so  shockingly 
sleepy,'  cried  Harry  ;  '  it  is  because  she  work- 
ed so  hard  this  morning,  sawing ;  and  she  is 
not  so  strong,  you  know,  as  I  am.' 

'  There  is  nothing  shocking,'  said  his  father, 
laughing — '  there  is  nothing  shocking  in  your 
sister's  being  sleepy.  Good  night,  Lucy,  my 
dear,  go  to  bed. — Good  night,  Harry.' 

'  No,  father,  not  good  night  to  me  pray — I 
am  not  at  all  sleepy.  I  was  thinking  how  1 
should  like  to  live  on  that  mountain,  and  slide 
down,  with  my  pole  in  my  hand,  and  learn 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  227 

to  walk  in  dangerous  places.  But  here  there 
are  no  precipices,  father  ;  and  I  cannot  learn 
to  walk,  as  they  do  on  Mount  Pilate.' 

'  This  is  a  lamentable  case  indeed,  Harry,' 
said  his  father ;  i  but,  if  you  are  so  exceedingly 
anxious  to  learn  to  walk  among  precipices,  I 
can  tell  you  how  a  celebrated  traveller  says, 
that  you  may  learn  to  do  it,  even  in  this  flat 
country.' 

'  Can  you,  father  ? — O,  pray  do  tell  me.' 

'  Shut  your  eyes,  and  imagine  yourself 
among  precipices,  and  walk  on  ;  and  M.  de 
Saussure  says,  you  may  accustom  yourself  so 
to  the  idea  of  danger,  that  you  would  be  much 
less  terrified  afterwards,  if  you  were  among 
real  precipices,  than  another  person  would, 
who  had  never  pursued  this  method.' 

'  Is  this  true,  father  ?' 

'  I  do  not  know,  for  I  have  never  tried  it. 
But  I  should  think,  that  you  might  practise 
walking  over  a  narrow  plank,  that  was  raised 
a  foot  from  the  ground,  and,  if  you  learn  to 
balance  your  body,  and  walk  well  upon  that, 
if  you  were  not  afraid,  you  would  be  better 
able  to  walk  steadily  over  any  narrow  bridge, 
where  there  was  a  precipice,  or  water  beneath.' 

'  So  I  could,'  said  Harry;  '  and  I  will  try 
this  experiment  to-morrow.  There  is  a  long 
ladder,  lying  on  the  grass  before  the  door,  and 
I  will  walk  on  one  side  of  the  ladder,  and 
Lucy  on  the  other  (for  I  suppose  she  will  not 
be  asleep  to-morrow,)  and  we  shall  see  who 


228  EARLY   LESSONS. 

slips  first.     Good  night,  mother — good  night, 
father — and  thank  you.' 


Lucy  was  quite  rested  and  refreshed,  when 
she  wakened  the  next  morning  ;  and  she 
went  into  her  father's  room,  with  her  brother, 
at  the  usual  hour. 

The  paper;  which  had  been  pasted  over  the 
hole  in  the  bellows,  was  now  dry ;  and  Harry 
found,  that,  when  he  lifted  up  the  top,  the  air 
came  into  the  bellows  at  the  nose  ;  but  it  did 
not  come  in  so  readily,  as  when  the  hole  in 
the  bottom  was  open.  Harry's  father  now 
put  a  peg  into  the  nose  of  the  bellows,  and  de- 
sired Harry  to  blow.  Harry,  with  great  diffi- 
culty, lifted  up  the  top  of  the  bellows  slowly. 
He  knew,  that  this  difficulty  was  occasioned 
by  the  shutting  up  the  opening  at  the  valve 
of  the  bellows  and  at  the  nose  ;  and  he  asked 
his  father,  how  any  air  could  now  get  in. 

His  father  told  him,  that  bellows  cannot  be 
so  well  made,  as  to  hinder  the  air  from  forc- 
ing its  way  into  them,  at  the  place  where  the 
nose  is  fastened  to  the  leather  ;  and  that,  be- 
sides this,  the  air  gets  in  between  the  leather 
and  the  wood. 

'  I  see,  father,  the  paper,  which  you  pasted 
over  the  hole  in  the  bellows,  sinks  inwards,' 
said  Harry,  '  when  you  lift  the  top,  and  swells 
outwards,  when  you  shut  it  down.' 

1  It  does  so,  my  dear  ;  and,  if  the  other  parts 
of  the  bellows  were  air-tight  (as  it  is  called,) 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  229 

the  paper  would  be  broken  inwards,  when  I 
pull  up  the  bellows.' 

'  I  suppose,  father,  if  it  was  not  such  strong 
paper,  it  would  break  now,  when  you  lift  it 
up  suddenly.' 

£  It  would,  my  dear  : — I  will  wet  the  paper, 
which  will  make  it  softer,  and  more  fragile.' 

i  What  is  fragile,  father  ?' 

'  That  which  can  be  easily  broken,  Harry.' 

'  Now  you  see,  that  lifting  the  top  quickly 
has  burst  the  paper.' 

'  Yes,  father,  I  see  that  the  air,  endeavoring 
to  rush  in,  has  broken  the  paper  ;  the  edges 
of  it  are  all  blown  inwards.' 

'  You  perceive  then,  Harry,  that  the  air, 
which  is  in  the  room  and  every  where  else, 
is  always  forcing  itself  into  any  empty  space  ; 
and  that,  if  it  cannot  force  its  way  immedi- 
ately, it  drives  any  thing  before  it,  which  it 
can  move,  into  that  space.' 

'  But  I  want  to  know,'  said  Harry,  '  what 
makes  the  parts  of  air  fly  from  each  other  ?' 

His  father  answered,  that  he  did  not  know ; 
'butldo  know,'  saidhe,  'that,  if  heat  be  added 
to  air,  the  parts  of  the  air  separate  from  each 
other  to  a  greater  distance,  and  with  greater 
force,  than  when  they  are  colder.  '  Now,  Har- 
ry,' continued  he,  '  I  will  close  the  valve,  or 
door,  of  the  bellows,  and  if  we  were  to  put  the 
end  of  the  bellows  into  this  bowl  of  water, 
and,  if  we  were  to  open  the  bellows,  what 

would  happen  V '  The  water  would  go 

into  the  bellows,'  said  Harry. 


230  EARLY   LESSONS. 

'  Why  should  it  go  in  ?'  said  his  father ;  '  the 
parts  of  water,  you  know,  do  not  fly  from  each 
other,  in  all  directions,  like  those  of  air.  If 
the  bellows  were  lower  than  the  bowl,  the  wa- 
ter might  fall  down  into  them  ;  but  you  see, 
that  the  bellows  are  higher  than  the  water.' 

'  I  do  not  think,'  said  Harry,  '  that  the  wa- 
ter would  move  itself  into  the  bellows ;  it  is  the 
air,  on  the  outside  of  the  water,  which  would 
rush  into  the  bellows,  if  the  water  were  not  in 
the  way  ;  the  air  drives  the  water  before  it 
into  the  empty  part  of  the  bellows.' 

Harry's  father  then  took  a  tumbler  in  his 
hand,  and  filled  it  with  water,  and  said — '  If 
this  tumbler,  that  is  full  of  water,  be  emptied  of 
the  water,  the  air,  that  is  in  the  room,  will  en- 
ter into  the  tumbler,  whether  it  be  held  in  any 
part  of  the  room,  upwards,  or  downwards,  or 
sideways.'  He  emptied  the  tumbler.  '  Now,' 
continued  he,  '  the  air  fills  the  space  in  the 
tumbler,  which  the  water  did  fill ;  and,  which- 
ever way  I  hold  the  mouth  of  the  glass,  wheth- 
er upwards  or  downwards,  to  this  side  or  to 
that,  the  air  would  go  into  it,  and  fill  it.' 

'  So  it  is  full  of  air,  at  this  very  moment,  is 
it?'  said  Lucy.  '  But  how  can  you  be  sure  of 
that,  father  ! — because  we  cannot  see  the  air.' 

'  No  ;  but  we  can  feel  it,'  said  Harry.  '  Wet 
your  finger,  and  put  it  into  the  tumbler,  and 
move  it  about  quickly,  and  you  will  feel  the 

air. 1  hope  you  are  satisfied  now,'  added 

he,  laughing,  as  Lucy  gravely  put  her  finger 
into  the  tumbler,  and  said,  seriously, 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  231 

1  Yes,  I  am  satisfied  now.' 

'  That  is  right,  Lucy,'  said  her  father  ; 
'  take  nothing  for  granted.  Now  observe  what 
happens,  when  I  put  this  tumbler,  with  its 
mouth  downwards  into  the  water,  in  this  ba- 
sin. Does  the  water  withinside  of  the  tum- 
bler rise  higher  than  the  water  on  the  outside 
of  it,  or  does  it  not  rise  so  high  ?' 

'  It  does  not  rise  quite  so  high,'  said  Lucy. 

'  What  do  you  think  is  in  that  space,  which 
you  see  above  the  water  in  the  tumbler  ?' 

Lucy,  at  first,  hastily  answered,  that  there 
was  nothing  ;  but,  recollecting  herself,  she  said 
there  was  air  ;  and  she  just  said  the  word  air 
at  the  same  moment  when  Harry  said  it. 

'  And  now  suppose,  that  I  could  take  away 
that  air,  which  is  in  the  glass,  immediately 
over  the  water — What  do  you  think  would 
happen  when  that  air  was  taken  away  ?' 

Lucy  said,  that  she  did  not  think  that  any 
thing  would  happen. 

Harry  said,  that  he  thought,  that  the  water 
would  rise  in  the  glass,  and  fill  the  place, 
which  the  air  had  filled. 

'  Very  right,  Harry,'  said  his  father — £  it 
would.' 

'  O  !  to  be  sure,  so  it  would,'  said  Lucy  ; 
'  but  I  did  not  say  that,  because  I  was  think- 
ing you  meant  quite  a  different  sort  of  thing, 
father — When  you  said  what  would  HAPPEN  ? 
I  thought  you  meant  to  ask,  if  any  accident 
would  happen — if  the  glass  would  be  broken 
suddenly,  or  something  of  that  sort — O  !  to  be 


232  EARLY    LESSONS. 

sure,  I   know    the  water  would  rise  in  the 
glass.' 

'  And  do  you  know,  Lucy,  why  it  would  rise 
in  the  glass,  or  what  would  make  it  rise  T 

Lucy  could  not  tell ;  all  she  could  say  was, 
that  the  water  would  rise,  because  there  was 
room  for  it  to  rise ;  but  her  brother  said  he  be- 
lieved, that  the  air  in  the  room,  the  air  that  was 
all  over  the  water  in  this  basin,  in  which  the 
tumbler  is  turned  down,  would  press  upon 
that  water,  and,  by  pressing  it  so,  would  force 
it  up  into  the  glass,  if  there  was  no  air,  or  any 
thing  else  in  the  glass,  to  prevent  the  water 
from  rising. 

His  father,  without  telling  Harry  whether 
he  was  right  or  wrong,  said,  that  he  would 
try  this  for  him. 

But  just  then  their  mother  came  in,  and  told 
their  father,  that  breakfast  had  been  ready 
some  time  ;  and  she  was  afraid,  that,  if  he  did 
not  come  soon,  the  muffins  would  be  quite  cold. 
Immediately,  their  father  made  a  great  deal  of 
haste  to  get  ready — Harry  smiled,  and  said — 

'  Ha  !  ha  ! — see  what  haste  father  makes, 
now  he  knows  the  muffins  are  come  ! — he 
loves  muffins,  I  see,  as  well  as  I  do  !' 

'  I  dare  say  he  loves  muffins,  and  so  do  I,' 
said  Lucy ;  '  but  I  know,  Harry,  it  is  not  all  foi 
the  sake  of  the  muffins,  that  he  is  making  this 
wonderful  haste — there's  another  reason.' 

'  What  other  reason  T  said  Harry. 

'  Because,'  whispered  Lucy,  'he  loves  moth- 
er, as  well  as  muffins,  '  and  he  does  not  like 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  233 

to  keep  her  waiting  for  breakfast  always  ; 
particularly  when  she  is  so  good,  you  know, 
and  is  never  angry.' 

'  I  wonder  whether  you  will  be  as  good, 
when  you  grow  up,'  said  Harry,  laughing — 
'No,  no ;  I  dare  say,  you  will  frown,  this  way, 
at  your  husband,  and  say,  '  I  wonder,  Mr. 
Slow,  you  are  never  ready  for  breakfast  !' 


'  Now,  father  !  this  morning,'  said  Harry,  { 1 
hope  we  are  to  see  the  experiment,  which  you 
were  going  to  show  us  yesterday,  just  when 
mother  and  the  muffins  came.  You  know, 
father,  that  you  asked  us  what  would  happen, 
if  you  could  take  away  all  the  air,  that  is  in 
this  tumbler,  between  the  top  of  the  water 
and  the  glass,  and  Lucy  said  nothing-  would 
happen  ;  but  she  was  wrong.' 

'  Only  at  first;  brother ;  I  was  only  wrong  at 
first,  when  I  did  not  understand  father's  ques- 
tion ;  afterwards,  you  know,  I  was  as  right 
as  you  were,  for  I  said  the  water  would  rise 
up  higher  in  the  glass,  to  be  sure.' 

'  Yes,  but  then  you  did  not  know  the  rea- 
son why  it  would  rise,  and  I  did  ;  for  when 
father  asked  me,  I  said,  that  the  air  in  the 
room,  the  air,  that  is  all  over  the  water  in  this 
basin,  in  which  the  tumbler  is  turned  down, 
would  press  upon  that  water,  and  force  it  up 
into  the  glass,  if  there  was  iu  air  left  in  the 
glass,  to  hinder  it.' 
20 


234  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  Well,  I  know  that,'  said  Lucy,  '  as  well  as 
you.' 

'  Yes,  when  I  tell  it  you,'  cried  Harry ;  'but  I 
said  it  at  first ;  I  was  right  from  the  beginning.' 

'  Come,  come,  my  dear  children,  no  boasting, 
Harry — no  disputing,  Lucy  ;  and  tfyen  you 
will  both  be  right.  What  signifies,  which  of 
you  said  it  first,  if  you  both  know  it  at  last '? 
Now,  Harry,  turn  your  attention  to  this,  and 
you,  Lucy  :  I  am  going  to  try  an  experiment, 
that  will  prove  to  you  whether  the  water  will 
or  will  not  rise  in  the  glass,  when  some  of  the 
air  above  it  is  taken  away.' 

'  But  I  can't  imagine,  father,'  said  Harry, 
'  how  you  will  contrive  to  get  all  that  air  out 
of  the  glass.' 

'  I  cannot  easily  get  all  the  air  out  of  the 
glass — I  cannot  easily  produce  what  is  called 
a  perfect  vacuum,  that  is,  a  place  where  there 
is  nothing,  no  air,  nor  any  thing  else  ;  but, 
though  I  cannot  produce  a  vacuum  in  the  top 
of  this  glass,  by  taking  away  all  the  air,  I  can 
easily  take  away  some  of  it.' 

'  How,  father?'  said  Harry  and  Lucy  at  once 
— Their  father  answered, — '  You  shall  see  ?' 

Then  he  went  for  a  crooked,  or  bent  tube  of 
glass — it  was  nearly  in  the  shape  of  a  capital 
U — He  told  Harry,  that  tubes  of  this  sort  are 
called  syphons.  He  put  one  leg  of  this  tube 
under  the  bottom  of  the  tumbler,  up  through 
the  water  in  the  tumbler,  into  the  place  which 
appeared  empty. 

He  now  bid  Harry  suck  at  the  other  end  ol 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  235 

the  syphon — Harry  did  so  ;  and  as  fast  as  he 
sucked,  the  water  rose  in  the  tumbler ;  but, 
when  Harry  took  away  his  mouth,  the  water 
fell  again. 

'  Why  does  this  happen,  Harry  ?' 

'  It  happens,  I  believe,  father,  because, 
when  I  sucked,  I  took  away  the  air,  that  was 
above  the  water  in  the  tumbler  ;  and  when  I 
left  off  sucking,  and  took  my  mouth  away, 
the  air  went  again  through  the  syphon  into 
the  tumbler  above  the  water.' 

'  Just  so,  Harry.  Now  the  same  thing  would 
happen  if  I  could  take  away  the  air,  or  lessen 
it,  by  any  means,  in  the  tumbler.  If  I  could 
fill,  or  partly  fill,  the  tumbler,  with  any  thing 
that  could  be  taken  away  from  beneath  the 
tumbler,  while  it  stands  in  the  water  that  is  in 
the  basin,  then  we  should  see  the  water  rise 
in  the  tumbler,  in  the  same  manner  as  if  the 

air  were  sucked  out  of  it What  shall  we 

put  into  it  that  we  can  readily  take  out,  with- 
out disturbing  the  tumbler  ?' 

'  I  don't  know,'  said  Harry. 

'  Here,'  said  his  father,  '  is  a  little  spool,  or 
roller,  upon  which  silk  is  usually  wound — 
Now  I  will  put  this  into  a  little  frame  of  tin,  that 
will  support  it  under  the  glass  tumbler  above 
the  water.  Upon  this,  I  have  wound  some 
very  broad  tape  so  as  to  fill  up  a  large  space 
in  the  tumbler  :  I  pull  one  end  of  the  tape  un- 
der the  bottom  of  the  tumbler,  through  the 
water  that  is  in  the  saucer,  so  that  I  can  un- 
wind the  whole  of  the  tape  without  disturbing 


236  EARLY    LESSONS. 

the  tumbler.  You  see,  that  the  water  rises  in 
the  tumbler,  as  I  unwind,  and  draw  out  the 
tape  ;  and,  now  that  all  is  drawn  out,  the 
water  has  filled  as  much  of  the  tumbler  as 
had  before  been  filled  by  the  tape.' 

'  That  is  very  pretty,'  said  Harry  ;  '  I  un- 
derstand it.  When  the  tape  was  taken  away, 
the  room,  that  it  filled  would  have  been  sup- 
plied with  air,  if  air  could  have  got  into  the 
tumbler;  but,  as  it  could  not  get  in,  it  forced  the 
water  in  the  basin  to  go  up  into  the  tumbler.' 

'  Now  I  will  show  you,  my  dear  children, 
another  method  of  trying  this  experiment.  I 
make  a  little  stand  of  halfpence  under  the 
tumbler,  upon  which  I  can  put  a  piece  of  pa- 
per, without  its  being  wet  by  the  water  in  the 
basin — I  set  fire  to  the  paper  ;  and  whilst  it 
is  flaming,  I  put  the  tumbler  quickly  over  the 
flame  into  the  water — now  you  see  the  flame 
goes  out  and  the  water  rises.' 

'  Yes,  father  ;  I  suppose  the  flame  burns 
out  some  of  the  air.' 

'  It  does,  Harry,  consume  a  little  of  the  air 
in  the  tumbler  ;  but  that  is  not  the  cause  why 
so  much  water  rises.  You  saw,  that  the  flame 
took  up  a  considerable  quantity  of  room  in 
the  tumbler  while  it  was  burning  ;  but,  the 
moment  that  the  glass  covered  the  flame  it 
went  out  :  and  then  the  room,  which  the 
flame  took  up,  was  supplied  by  the  water, 
rising  from  the  saucer.' 

'  Yes,  father,  the  water  was  driven  in  by 
the  air,  that  wanted  to  get  into  the  tumbler.' 


HARRY    AND  LUCY.  237 

•  Just  so,  Harry.  Now,  instead  of  putting  a 
piece  of  lighted  paper  upon  the  little  stand  oi 
halfpence,  I  put  a  piece  of  tow,  dipped  in  tur- 
pentine upon  it ;  this,  you  see,  makes  a  larger 
flame  ;  and,  when  this  is  extinguished,  or  put 
out,  by  placing  the  glass  quickly  over  it, 
more  water  rises  than  in  the  former  experi- 
ment :  and,  if  I  were  to  dip  the  tow  into  spi- 
rit of  wine,  and  light  it,  it  would  answer  the 
same  purpose  as  tow  dipped  in  turpentine.' 

Their  father  warned  the  children  against 
the  danger  of  having  more  than  a  very  small 
quantity  of  turpentine  or  spirit  of  wine  brought 
near  to  the  candle  or  to  the  fire,  as  it  might 
easily  catch  fire,  and  set  fire  to  their  clothes, 
or  to  the  furniture  in  the  room.  '  All  experi- 
ments in  which  fire  is  necessary,'  their  father 
said,  '  children  should  never  attempt  to  try, 
when  they  are  in  a  room  by  themselves. — 
Some  grown-up  person  should  always  be  pres- 
ent, to  prevent  accidents,  or  to  assist,  if  any 
accident  should  happen.' 

The  children  both  promised  their  father, 
that  they  would  take  care  never  to  meddle 
with  fire  when  he  or  their  mother  was  not 
present,  or  to  try  any  dangerous  experiments. 

Harry  then  turned  again  to  look  at  the 
tumbler,  and  repeated,  that  it  was  really  very 
pretty,  to  see  the  water  rise  in  the  tumbler, 
pressed  up  by  the  air,  that  was  over  the  wa- 
ter in  the  basin.  Harry  seemed  still  doubtful 
whether  Lucy  understood  it. 

'  You  see,  Lucy,  the  air  presses  this  watei 


238  EARLY    LESSONS. 

first,  and  that  presses  it  up  into  the  tumbler.' 
Yes,  I  understand  it  perfectly,'  said  Lucy. 

'  But,  Harry,'  said  his  father,  'you  say  that 
ihe  air  presses  the  water  in  the  basin,  up  in 
the  glass  tumbler.  What  do  you  think  would 
happen,  if  there  was  no  water  in  the  basin  ?' 

'  I  believe  the  water  would  run  out  of  the 
tumbler,'  said  Lucy. 

'  So  it  would,'  said  her  father,  '  unless  the 
bottom  of  the  glass  was  ground  quite  smooth, 
and  the  basin  also  ground  quite  smooth.' 

'  And  what  would  happen,  if  the  basin  and 
tumbler  were  ground  quite  smooth?'saidHarry. 

1  Then,'  replied  his  father,  '  if  you  lifted  up 
the  tumbler,  the  basin  would  come  up  with  it 
from  the  table,  and  seem  to  stick  to  it.' 

'  I  should  like  very  much  to  see  that  experi- 
ment,' said  Lucy ;  'but  we  have  no  glass  ves- 
sel nor  basin  ground  smooth  enough,  I  believe.' 

'  No  ;  but  I  can  show  you  an  experiment 
equally  satisfactory,  without  them,'  said  their 
father. 

'  I  fill  this  ale  glass  with  water,  and  I  cover 
it  with  a  card,  having  first  wetted  the  side  of 
the  card,  which  is  next  to  the  glass — I  now 
put  the  palm  of  my  hand  on  the  card,  and  I 
turn  the  glass  upside  down  on  the  card,  which 
lies  on  my  hand.  You  now  see,  that,  though 
I  have  taken  away  my  hand,  the  card  sticks 
to  the  glass.' 

'  That  is  very  pretty  !'    cried  Lucy. 

1  But  why  does  not  the  water  fall  out?'  said 
Harry. 


HARRY    AND    LUCY. 


239 


'  Because  the  card  keeps  it  in,'  said  Lucy. 

'  Why  does  it  keeps  it  in  ?'  said  Harry. 

'  Because  the  card  sticks  to  the  glass,'  said 
Lucy. 

'  And  what  makes  it  stick  to  the  glass  ?' 
said  Harry. 

Lucy  did  not  answer  immediately ;  but  her 
father  asked  Harry  if  he  knew. 

Harry  said  it  did  not  stick  to  the  glass  ; 
but  it  is  held  close  against  the  glass  by  the 
pressure  of  the  air  that  is-  in  the  room.' 

1  That  is  quite  right,'  said  his  father  ;  '  by 
the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere.  I  am  glad, 
Harry,  that  you  know,  that  the  air  presses 
upwards,  as  well  as  downwards,  and  side- 
ways, and  in  all  directions.' 


240  EARLY    LESSONS. 

•  Father,'  said  Lucy,  '  will  you  be  so  good, 
as  to  try  that  experiment  again  V 

'  Here  you  see  the  card  remains  close  to 
the  bottom  of  the  glass,'  said  their  father. 

'  But,  father,  the  glass  is  not  full,'  said  Lucy. 

'Yes,  it  is  full,'  said  Harry;  '  though  it  is  not 
quite  full  of  water,  it  is  full  of  water  and  air.' 

'  I  left  it  so  on  purpose,'  said  his  father. 

'  Now  I  will  hold  it  to  the  fire,  and  you 
will  see  what  will  happen.' 

In  less  than  half  a  minute,  they  saw  the 
card  drop  off,  and  the  water  fall  on  the  hearth. 

'  What  is  the  cause  of  that?'  said  his  father. 

'  The  heat  of  the  fire  swells,  or  expands  the 
air  that  is  in  the  glass  over  the  water,  and  for- 
ces it  and  the  card  downwards,'  said  Harry. 

'There  was  also  a  little  steam  formed,'  said 
Lucy. 

'  There  was,'  said  her  father.  '  Now  let  us 
take  care,  and  not  be  late  at  breakfast  this 
morning. 

The  children  went  to  tell  their  mother  of 
this  last  experiment,  which  pleased  them  par- 
ticularly. 

As  soon  as  Harry  and  Lucy  had  finished 
their  lessons  this  day,  they  went  into  what  they 
now  called  '  their  wood-room?  and  sawed  the 
provision  of  wood  for  the  evening  fire  ;  and, 
this  day,  Harry's  father  lent  him  a  little 
hatchet,  for  a  few  minutes,  while  he  stood  by, 
to  see  whether  Harry  would  be  able  to  use  it, 
without  hurting  himself.  Harry  split  half  a 


HARRY    AND    LUCY. 


241 


dozen  billets  of  wood,  and  begged,  that,  as  he 
had  done  no  mischief  to  himself  or  to  any 
body,  or  any  thing  else,  he  might  have  the 
hatchet  the  next  day,  to  split  the  wood  in  the 
same  manner.  But  his  father  said — 

'  It  is  not  likely  that  I  should  have  time  to 
stand  by  to-morrow,  to  see  you  split  wood, 
though  I  happened  to  have  leisure  just  now  ; 
and  I  cannot  yet  trust  you  with  the  hatchet, 
when  you  are  alone.  But,  Lucy,  what  makes 
you  look  so  blue  ?  You  look  as  if  you  were 
very  cold  ;  I  thought  you  had  warmed  your- 
self with  sawing.' 

'  No,  father,  because  I  have  not  been  saw- 
ing. Harry  had  the  saw — You  know  that  two 
21 


242  EARLY   LESSONS. 

of  us  could  not  use  the  saw  at  the  same  time  1 
and  so  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  give  him 
the  wood  when  he  wanted  it,  or  to  hold  it  for 
him  when  he  was  sawing ;  and  that,  you 
know,  fat  ter,  was  very  cold  work.  That  is 
what  mat  3s  me  look  so  blue,  I  suppose.' 

'  Well,  to-morrow  you  shall  saw,  and  I  will 
hold  the  wood,'  said  Harry,  or  we  will  take  it 
by  turns,  that  will  be  better ;  you  shall  begin, 
and  saw  one  stick  through,  and  I  will  hold 
the  wood  ;  then  I  will  saw,  and  you  shall  hold 
the  wood ;  that  will  be  fair,  will  not  it,  father  ? 
— Quite  just — I  must  be  just,  to  be  sure.' 

'  Yes,'  said  his  father.  '  In  your  code  of 
laws,  for  the  children  on  Mount  Pilate,  do  not 
forget  that — Nobody  can  govern  well,  that  is 
not  just.' 

'  That's  true,'  said  Harry,  looking  very 
thoughtful — '  Now,  which  must  I  put  first, 
honesty  or  justice  ?' 

'  I  think,'  said  Lucy,  and  she  paused. 

'  What  do  you  think,  my  dear  V  said  her 
father. 

'  I  was  going  to  say,  that  I  thought,  that 
honesty  is  only  a  sort  of  justice.' 

'  You  thought  very  rightly, my  dear.  It  is  so.' 

'And  what  are  you  thinking  of,  yourself, 
may  I  ask  you,  father  T  said  Lucy  ;  '  for  you 
looked  at  the  saw,  as  if  you  were  thinking 
something  more  about  our  sawing.' 

'  I  was  so,'  answered  her  father — £  I  was 
just  thinking  of  a  way,  by  which  you  could 
both  saw  together,  with  the  same  saw.' 


HARRY   AND   LUCY.  243 

<  How,  father  ? 

c  Invent  the  way  for  yourself,  my  dear.' 

'  Invent,  father  ? — can  I  invent  ?'  said  Lucy. 

'  Yes,  my  dear  ;  I  do  not  know  of  any  thing 
that  should  hinder  you.  To  invent,  you 
know,  means what  does  it  mean,  Lucy  V 

1  It  means — to  invent  means    to think,' 

said  Lucy  ;  '  but  that  is  not  all  it  means  ;  for 
I  think,  very  often,  without  inventing  any 
thing It  means  to  contrive.' 

'  And  what  does  to  contrive  mean  V 

1  It  means  to  make  a  contrivance  for  doing 

any  thing O,  father,  you  are  going  to  ask 

me  what  a  contrivance  means — stay,  I  will 
begin  again — to  invent,  means  to  think  of, 
and  to  find  out  a  new  way  of  doing  some- 
thing, that  you  want  to  do.' 

'  Well,  now  try,  if  you  can,  to  invent  some 
way  of  using  this  saw,  so  that  you  and  your 
brother  could  work  with  it  at  the  same  time. 
Harry,  think  of  it  too  ;  and  whichever  thinks 
of  any  thing  first,  speak.' 

'  Father,'  said  Harry,  '  I  recollect  the  day 
we  went  to  the  farmer,  who  lives  on  the  hill, 
Farmer  Snug,  as  Lucy  and  I  called  him,  our 
seeing  two  men  sawing  in  a  sort  of  pit.' 

'  I  remember  it.'  cried  Lucy  ;  '  and  father 
told  me  it  was  called  a  sawpit.' 

'  And  one  of  the  men  stood  on  a  board,  that 
was  across  the  top  of  the  pit,  and  the  other 
man  stood  at  the  bottom  of  the  pit,  and  they 
had  a  kind  of  saw,  that  was  fixed  upright,  per- 
pendicularly, this  way,  in  a  sort  of  frame,  and 


244  EARLY   LESSONS. 

one  of  the  men  pulled  it  up,  and  the  other  pull- 
ed it  down,  through  the  wood  they  were  saw- 
ing. Now,  if  Lucy  and  I  had  such  a  place  to 
saw  in,  or  if  I  stood  upon  something  very  high., 
and  we  had  another  handle  to  this  saw— 

'  But,  brother,'  interrupted  Lucy,  '  what 
would  be  the  use  to  us,  of  pulling  the  saw  up 
and  down  that  way  ;  if  we  had  but  a  handle 
at  each  end  of  this  saw,  why  could  not  we  saw 
with  it,  pulling  it  backwards  and  forwards, 
just  as  we  stand  now, without  any  thing  more?' 

'  Very  true,  Lucy,'  said  her  father,  '  now 
you  have  found  out,  or  invented,  a  kind  of 
saw,  which  was  invented  long  ago  by  some 
one  else,  and  which  is  at  present  in  common 
use — it  is  called  a  cross-cut  saw  :  I  will  get 
you  a  cross-cut  saw.  Now  put  on  your  hats ; 
I  am  going  to  walk,  to  see  Farmer  Snug,  as 
you  call  him,  about  some  business  of  my  own, 
and  you  may  both  come  with  me.' 

Harry  and  Lucy  got  themselves  ready  in  a 
minute,  and  ran  after  their  father,  who  never 
waited  for  them.  When  they  came  to  the 
farmer's  house,  while  their  father  was  talking 
to  the  farmer  about  his  business,  they  ran  to 
the  sawpit,  in  hopes  of  seeing  the  men  sawing; 
but  no  men  were  at  work  there.  As  they  re- 
turned they  heard  the  sound  of  men  sawing 
in  a  shed  near  the  house,  and  they  looked  into 
the  shed,  as  they  passed,  and  they  found  two 
men  sawing  the  trunk  of  a  tree  across,  with 
something  like  the  sort  of  saw,  which  Lucy 
had  described  to  her  father.  They  went  back 


HARRY  AND  LUCY. 


245 


to  Farmer  Snug's  to  tell  this  to  their  father  : 
but  he  was  busy  talking,  and  they  did  not  in- 
terrupt him.  While  he  was  engaged  with 
the  farmer,  Harry  and  Lucy  amused  them- 
selves by  looking  at  every  thing  in  the  parlor 
and  kitchen  of  this  cottage.  There  was  one 
thing  in  the  parlor,  which  they  had  never 
seen  before— Over  the  chimney-piece  hung  a 
glass  vial  bottle,  in  which  there  was  a  sort 
of  wooden  cross,  or  reel,  on  which  thread  was 
wound.  This  cross  was  much  wider  than  the 
mouth  or  neck  of  the  bottle  ;  and  Harry  and 
Lucy  wondered  how  it  could  ever  have  been 
got  into  the  bottle.  As  they  were  examining 
and  considering  this,  their  father  and  the  far- 
mer, having  now  finished  their  business,  came 
up  to  them. 


246  EARLY    f.ESSONS. 

'  Ah  !  you've  got  that  there  curious  thing, 
that  reel  in  the  bottle,'  said  the  farmer  ;  '  it 
has  puzzled  my  wife,  and  many  a  wiser  per- 
son ;  now,  master  and  miss,  do  you  see,  to  find 
out  how  that  reel,  thread  and  all,  was  got,  or, 
as  I  say,  conjured  into  the  bottle.  And  I 
don't  doubt,  but  I  might  ha'  puzzled  myself 
over  it  a  long  time,  as  well  as  another,  if  I 
had  not  just  been  told  how  it  was  done.' 

'  O,  how  I  wish  I  had  been  by !'  cried  Harry. 

1  And  I  too  !'  said  Lucy — '  Pray  how  was 
it  done,  sir?' 

'  Why,  master, — Why,  miss,  you  see,  just 

this  way,  very  ready The  glass  was,  as  it 

were — before  it  come  to  be  a  bottle  like  at  all 
— was  taken,  and  just  blown  over  it,  from  a 
man's  mouth  with  fire  and  a  long  pipe — so 
I  was  told.' 

Harry  and  Lucy  stood  looking  up  in  the 
man's  face,  endeavoring  to  understand  what 
he  said  ;  but,  as  Farmer  Snug  had  not  the  art 
of  explaining  clearly,  it  was  not  easy  to  com- 
prehend his  descriptions. 

'  Then  I  will  tell  you  what,  master,'  said 
the  farmer,  growing  impatient  at  finding  that 
he  could  not  explain  himself;  '  it  is  an  impos- 
sibility to  make  a  body  comprehend  it  rightly, 
except  they  were  to  see  it  done,  and  the  man 
who  did  it  is  in  our  market  down  here  hard 
by — He  is  a  travelling  kind  of  a  strange  man, 
who  does  not  speak  English  right  at  all,  not 
being  an  Englishman  born,  poor  man  ! — no 
fault  of  his  !  so,  if  you  think  well  of  it,  sir,  I 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  247 

will  bid  him,  when  I  go  betimes  to  market, 
call  at  your  house  to-morrow, — he  is  going 
about  the  country,  to  people's  houses — he 
blows  glass,  and  mends  weather  glasses,  and 
sells  'mometers  and  the  like.' 

'Weather  glasses! — barometers!'  said 
Harry — O,  pray,  father,  do  let  him  come  !' 

'  Thermometers  —  he  sells  thermometers 
too!'  criedLucy,  'O  pray,  father,  let  him  come!' 

Their  father  smiled,  and  said,  that  he 
should  be  obliged  to  Farmer  Snug,  if  he 
would  desire  this  man  to  call  in  the  morning, 
at  half  past  eight  o'clock, — if  he  could.  The 
family  usually  breakfasted  at  nine. 

So  much  for  the  pleasures  of  this  morning. 
This  evening,  Harry  and  Lucy's  father  and 
mother  were  reading  to  themselves  ;  and  the 
children  entertained  themselves  with  putting 
in  some  more  stars  into  their  map  of  the  sky  : 
and  they  looked  at  the  great  celestial  globe, 
which  their  mother  had  uncovered  for  them, 
and  they  learned  the  names  of  the  signs  of  the 
Zodiac,  and  the  months  to  which  they  be- 
long. Lucy  showed  these  to  Harry,  and  said, 

'  Mother  does  not  know  them  all  herself ; 
let  us  get  them  by  heart  and  surprise  her.' 

Accordingly  they  learnt  them,  with  some 
little  difficulty. 

After  they  had  learnt  these,  Harry  and 
Lucy  refreshed  themselves,  by  playing  a 
game  at  jack  straws,  or,  as  some  call  them, 
spillikens.  Lucy  had  taken  off  almost  all  the 
straws,  without  shaking  one,  and,  according 


248  EARLY    LESSONS. 

to  the  rules  of  the  game,  would,  consequently 
have  been  victorious  ;  but,  unluckily,  a  sudder 
push  backward  of  her  father's  chair  shook 
her  elbow,  shook  her  hand,  shook  jack-straw, 
just  as  she  was  lifting  him  up,  and  he  fell  ! 

Harry,  clapping  his  hands,  exclaimed — 

'  There  !  —  you  shook  !  —  you  shook  ! — 
you've  lost.' 

Lucy  looked  at  her  brother,  and  smiled. 

'  She  has  lost  the  game,'  said  her  mother  ; 
1  but  she  has  won  a  kiss  from  me,  for  her 
good  humor.' 

Lucy,  indeed,  bore  the  loss  of  her  game 
very  good  humoredly  ;  and,  when  she  went 
to  wish  her  father  and  mother  good  night, 
they  both  kissed  her  and  smiled  upon  her. 

'  The  barometer-man  is  to  come  to-day,  fa- 
ther, at  half  after  eight,  and  it  is  half  after  sev- 
en now,  father — Will  you  get  up'?'  said  Harry. 

'  The  man  who  can  show  us  how  the  reel 
was  put  into  the  bottle,'  added  Lucy — '  Will 
you  not  get  up,  father  ?' 

Their  father  rose  and  dressed  himself;  and, 
as  he  was  dressed  by  eight  o'clock,  they  had 
half  an  hour  to  spare,  before  the  time  when 
this  much  expected  man  was  appointed  to  come. 

'  Why  should  we  waste  this  half  hour,  Har- 
ry T  said  his  father ;  '  let  us  go  on  with  what 
we  were  talking  of  yesterday  morning.  Do  you 
recollect  the  experiments  we  tried  yesterday  T 

'  Certainly,  father,'  said  Harry ;  '  you  mean 
the  experiments  you  showed  us,  with  the 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  249 

burning  tow  and  the  turpentine,  to  make  an 
empty  space — a  vacuum,  I  remember,  you 
called  it — in  the  tumbler,  that  we  might  see 
whether  the  water  would  rise  and  fill  the 
place,  which  the  air  had  filled — Yes,  father, 
I  remember  all  this  perfectly.' 

'  And  I  remember  the  experiment  you  tried 
with  the  roll  of  tape,  father,  which  you  put 
under  the  glass — When  you  unrolled  the  tape 
and  pulled  it  gently  from  under  the  tumbler, 
the  water  went  up,  and  took  the  place  of  the 
tape  that  was  unrolled.' 

'  But,  father  !'  cried  Harry,  '  I  have  thought 
of  something  ! — I  want  to  ask  you  a  ques- 
tion, father.' 

1  Ask  it,  then,  my  dear  ;  but  you  need  not 
begin,  by  telling  me  that  you  want  to  ask  a 
question.' 

'  What  I  want  to  say,  father,  is  this ' 

'  Think  first,  my  boy,  and,  when  you  clear- 
ly know  what  you  mean  to  say,  speak  ;  and 
begin  without  that  foolish  preface  of  what  1 
icant  to  say  is  this.' 

1  What  I  want,'  Harry  began  from  habit, 
but  stopped  himself  and  began  again — 

'  Would  the  water  run  up  into  a  very  high 
vessel,  father,  as  well  as  it  ran  into  the  tum- 
bler, if  you  suppose  that  some  of  the  air,  in 
the  high  vessel,  were  taken  out  of  it  ?' 

'  Yes,'  answered  his  father  :  '  If  the  vesse] 
were  as  high  as  the  room,  in  which  we  are, 
the  water  would  remain  in  it,  if  it  were  quite 
emptied  of  air.' 


250  EARLY   LESSONS. 

Harry  asked,  if  it  would  stay  in  the  vessel, 
were  it  as  high  as  the  house. 

'  No,  it  would  not,'  answered  his  father  ; 
{ because  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  is  not 
sufficient  to  hold  up  the  weight  of  such  a  col- 
umn of  water,  as  could  be  contained  in  a  pipe 
forty  feet  high  ;  though  it  is  sufficient  to  sup- 
port or  sustain,  or  hold  up,  the  water  that  could 
be  contained  in  a  pipe  thirty-four  feet  high. 

Harry  said  he  did  not  understand  this. 

'  I  am  not  surprised  at  that,'  said  his  father ; 
{  for  you  are  not  used  to  the  words  pressure 
of  the  atmosphere,  or  column  of  water,  and  to 
other  words  which  I  make  use  of.  But,'  con- 
tinued his  father,  •  if  we  had  a  pipe  forty  feet 
long,  with  cocks  such  as  are  in  tea-urns,  fitted 
well  into  each  end  of  it,  and  if  the  pipe  were 
placed  upright  against  a  wall,  with  the  bottom 
of  it  in  a  tub  of  water,  and  if  the  lower  cock 
were  shut,  and  if  the  upper  cock  were  opened, 
the  pipe  might,  by  means  of  a  tundish,  or  tun- 
nel, be  filled  with  water.  Now,  Harry,  if  the 
lower  cock  were  open,  what  would  happen  ?' 

'  The  water  would  run  out  at  the  bottom,' 
answered  Harry, '  and  would  overflow  the  tub.' 

'  True,'  said  his  father. 

'  But  now  suppose  the  pipe  were  filled  again 
with  water  ;  and  if  the  cock  at  the  top  were 
shut  and  the  cock  at  the  bottom  opened,  under 
water,  would  the  water  in  the  pipe  run  out  ?' 

1  No,  it  would  not,'  said  Harry  ;  '  the  pres- 
sure of  the  atmosphere,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pipe,  would  prevent  it  from  falling  out.' 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  251 

'  That  would  be  the  case.'  said  his  father, 
'  if  the  pipe  was  only  thirty-three  or  thirty- 
four  feet  high ;  but  this  pipe  is  forty  feet  high, 
so  that  the  water  in  six  feet  of  the  top  of  the 
pipe  would  run  out ;  and,  if  this  were  let  to 
run  out  very  gently,  the  water  in  the  remain- 
ing thirty-three  or  thirty-four  feet  would  con- 
tinue supported  by  the  pressure  of  the 
atmosphere  on  the  water  in  the  tub.' 

'  Father,'  said  Lucy,  '  there  is  a  tub  of  wa- 
ter in  the  area  under  the  window  in  my  room ; 
and  this  would  be  a  fine  way  of  raising  wa- 
ter up  into  my  room,  without  the  trouble  of 
carrying  it  up  stairs.' 

'  My  dear,  that  is  an  ingenious  thought,'  said 
her  father  ;  '  but  you  are  mistaken — I  will  not 
attempt  at  present  to  tell  you  exactly  how ' 

'  Here  is  the  barometer  man,  father  !'  in- 
terrupted Lucy — '  I  saw  an  odd  little  man, 
with  a  box  under  his  arm,  go  by  the  window. 
Hark  ! There  he  is,  knocking  at  the  door.' 

The  man  was  shown  into  a  room,  which 
was  called  the  workshop.  He  was  a  little, 
thin  man,  with  a  very  dark  complexion,  large 
black  eyes,  and,  as  the  children  observed,  had 
something  ingenious  and  good-natured  in  his 
countenance,  though  he  was  ugly.  Though 
he  could  not  speak  English  well,  he  made 
them  understand  him,  by  the  assistance  of 
signs.  He  began  to  open  his  box, and  to  produce 
some  of  his  things  ;  but  Harry's  father  asked 
him  to  rest  himself  after  his  walk,  and  ordered 
that  he  should  have  breakfast  brought  to  him. 


252  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Harry  and  Lucy  despatched  their  breakfast 
with  great  expedition ;  they  thought  that 
their  father  and  mother  were  unusually  slow 
in  eating  theirs,  and  that  their  father  drank 
an  uncommon  number  of  dishes  of  tea  ;  but 
at  last  he  said — '  No  more,  thank  you,  my 
dear' — and  putting  aside  the  newspaper  he 
rose,  and  said — 

'  Now,  children,  now  for  the  barometer- 
man^  as  you  call  him.' 

'  Mother  ! — mother  ! — pray  come  with  us  !' 
said  the  children ;  they  took  her  by  the 
hand,  and  they  all  went  together. 

'  Now,  mother,  you  shall  see  what  Farmer 
Snug  described  to  us  yesterday,'  said  Lucy. 

'  No — what  he  could  not  describe  to  us  yes- 
terday, you  mean,'  said  Harry — '  How  a  reel 
or  a  kind  of  wooden  cross,  mother,  is  put  into 
a  bottle,  or  how  the  bottle  is  made  or  blown 
over  the  reel — I  do  not  understand  it  quite, 
yet.' 

'  So  I  perceive,  my  dear,'  said  his  mother, 
smiling  ;  '  for  I  have  seen  the  whole  process 
accomplished  with  a  piece  of  wire.' 

'  But  this  man  will  show  it  to  us,  mother,' 
said  Lucy.  '  And  I  generally  understand 
what  I  see,  though  I  often  do  not  understand 
what  I  hear.' 

Alas  !  to  Harry's  and  Lucy's  great  disap- 
pointment, this  man,  when  they  had,  with 
some  difficulty,  made  him  understand  what 
they  wanted,  told  them,  that  he  could  not 


HARRY   AND   LUCY.  253 

blow  a  bottle  over  a  reel,  such  as  they  had 
seen  at  the  farmer's. 

This  was  a  sad  disappointment  ! — and, 
what  Harry  thought  still  worse,  the  man  had 
sold  all  his  barometers.  However,  he  had 
some  little  thermometers,  and  Lucy's  mother 
bought  one  for  her,  and  gave  it  to  her.  Lucy 
colored  all  over  her  face,  and  her  eyes  sparkled 
with  pleasure,  when  her  mother  put  it  into  her 
hand,  and  Harry  was  almost  as  glad  as  she 
was. 

'  Is  it  really  for  me  ! — for  my  own,  mother  ! 
— I  will  take  care  and  not  break  it.  Harry, 
we  can  hang  it  up  in  our  wood-room,  and  see 
every  day  how  cold,  or  how  hot  the  room  is, 
before  and  after  we  begin  to  work — and  we 
can  try  such  a  number  of  nice  experiments.' 

'  Pray,  sir,'  said  Lucy  to  the  man,  '  how 
do  you  make  these  thermometers  ?' 

The  man  said  he  would  show  her,  and  he 
took  out  of  his  box  some  long  tubes  of  glass, 
and  a  long  brass  pipe,  and  a  lamp.  It  was  a 
lamp  with  which  he  could  melt  glass.  When 
he  had  lit  his  lamp,  it  made  a  large  flame, 
which  he  blew  with  a  brass  pipe,  that  he  held 
in  his  mouth.  Her  father  told  her,  that  this 
pipe  was  called  a  blow-pipe.  With  it  the 
man  blew  the  flame  of  the  lamp,  and  directed 
it  to  one  of  the  glass  tubes,  which  he  held  in 
his  other  hand.  In  a  little  time,  the  heat  be- 
gan to  melt  the  glass,  and  it  melted  into  a 
round  ball ;  this  he  heated  again  in  the  flame 
of  the  lamp,  and,  when  the  glass  was  soft  and 


254 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


melting,  he  closed  that  end  of  the  pipe,  and 
it  looked  like  a  lump  of  melted  glass  ;  then  he 
blew  air  with  his  mouth  in  through  the  other 
end  of  the  glass  pipe,  till  the  air  blown  with- 
inside  of  the  pipe  reached  the  end,  which  was 
melting  ;  and,  the  air  being  strongly  blown 
against  it,  it  swelled  out  into  a  bubble  of 
melted  glass,  and  thus  made  the  bulb  of  a 
thermometer-tube.  He  left  it  to  cool  very 
slowly,  and  when  it  was  cool,  it  became  hard 
and  was  a  perfect  thermometer-tube. 

Harry's  father  had  some  syphons  ar^  bent 
tubes  of  different  shapes  made  for  him.    He    y 


HARRY   AND    LUCY.  255 

was  very  glad  of  this ;  for  he  thought  he  could 
try  many  different  experiments  with  these. 

The  thermometer-man  was  now  paid  and 
dismissed. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  Harry  and  Lucy 
went  to  their  usual  occupations  ;  for  they 
never  missed  any  day  their  regular  lessons. 
Then  came  sawing  wood — then  walking  out 
Happy  children  !  always  doing  some- 
thing useful  or  agreeable. 

This  evening,  when  they  were  sitting  round 
the  fire  after  dinner,  and  after  his  father  had 
finished  reading  the  newspaper,  when  he  was 
not  busy,  Harry  asked  him  what  glass  was 
made  of.  '  I  thought  you  had  known  that, 
long  ago,  Harry,'  said  his  father — Surely  I 
have  told  you,  have  not  I  ?' 

'  Yes,  father,  I  believe — I  dare  say  you 
have  ;  but  I  always  forget ;  because  I  never 
was  very  curious,  or  much  interested  about  it 
till  now  ;  but  now,  when  we  have  been  seeing, 
and  thinking,  and  talking  so  much  about  glass, 
I  think  I  shall  remember  what  it  is  made  of,  if 
you  will  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  once  more.' 

His  father  desired  Harry  to  bring  him  some 
sand,  which  was  lying  in  a  paper  in  his 
study — Harry  did  so.  Then  his  father  said 
to  his  mother — 

'  I  wish  I  had  some  alkali,  to  show  the 
children — some  barilla  ashes — Have  you  any 
in  the  house  ?' 

'No.' 

There  was  no  barilla  ashes  ;  but  she  recol- 


256  EARLY   LESSONS. 

lected  that  a  heap  of  fern  and  bean  stalks 
had  been  lately  burned  near  the  house,  and 
the  ashes  of  these  were  to  be  easily  had. 

Some  of  these  ashes  were  brought  upon  a 
plate  ;  and  Harry's  father  placed  the  ashes 
and  the  sand  before  him,  and  said — 

'  These,  when  burnt  together,  would  make 
glass.' 

'  I  shall  never  forget  it,'  said  Harry — 'Now 
I  have  seen  the  real  things,  of  which  glass  is 
made,  I  shall  never  forget  them.' 

'  That  is  what  I  say  too,'  cried  Lucy  : — 
'  Seeing  things,  and  seeing  them  just  at  the 
very  time  I  am  curious  about  them,  makes 
me  remember  easily,  and  exceedingly  well.' 

'  Taste  these  ashes,'  said  their  father — '  this 
pot-ash,  as  it  is  called ;  wet  your  ringer,  take 
tip  a  little  of  it,  and  put  it  into  your  mouth.' 

Harry  and  Lucy  did  so ;  but  they  said  the 
ashes  had  not  an  agreeable  taste.  Their  father 
said,  that  he  did  not  expect  that  they  should 
think  it  agreeable  ;  but  that  he  had  desired 
them  to  taste  the  ashes,  that  they  might  know 
the  taste  of  what  is  called  alkali — what  is 
called  an  alkaline  taste. 

1 1  shall  not  forget  that,  either,'  said  Lucy. 

'  How  wonderful  it  is,'  continued  she — look- 
ing first  at  the  sand  and  ashes,  and  then  at  a 
glass,  which  she  held  in  her  hand — 'how  won- 
derful it  is,  that  such  a  beautiful,  clean,  clear, 
transparent  thing  as  glass,  could  be  made  from 
such  different  looking  things,  as  sand  and 
ashes  !' 


HARRY    AND  LUCV.  257 

'  And  I  wonder,'  said  Harry,  :  how  people 
could  ever  think  or  invent,  that  glass  could 
be  made  of  these  things.' 

e  Some  say  that  glass  was  invented,  or 
rather  discovered,  by  a  curious  accident,'  said 
his  father. 

'  Pray,  father,  tell  us  the  accident.' 

'  Some  sailors,  or  some  merchants,  who 
were  going  on  a  voyage,  were  driven  by  con- 
trary winds,  out  of  their  course  (or  way.) 
They  were  driven  close  to  land,  and  they  were 
obliged  to  go  on  shore — the  shore  was  sandy 
and  there  grew  near  the  place  where  these 
men  landed  a  great  deal  of  sea-weed.  The 
men  wanted  to  boil  some  food  in  an  iron  pot, 
which  they  had  brought  on  shore  with  them ; 
they  made  a  fire  on  the  sands  with  sea-weed  ; 
and  they  observed,  that  the  ashes  of  this  sea- 
weed, mixed  with  the  sand  and  burnt  by  the 
fire,  had  a  glassy  appearance.  It  looked  like 
a  kind  of  greenish  glass.  It  is  said,  that,  from 
this  observation,  they  formed  the  first  idea  of 
making  glass  by  burning  ashes  of  sea-weed 
(called  kelp]  and  sand  together.' 

'  How  lucky  it  was,  that  they  made  this 
fire  on  the  sand  with  sea- weed  !'  said  Harry. 

'  How  wise  these  people  were,  to  observe 
what  happened  when  they  did  so !'  said 
Harry's  father. 


Next  morning,  when  Harry  and  Lucy  went 
into  their  father's  room,  Harry  began  witb 
his  usual  speech — 

22 


258  EARLY   LESSONS. 

{  Now   for   the  barometer,   father ! — and, 
added  he,  '  we  must  make   haste,  for  we  are 
to  go  to-morrow  to  my  uncle's,  and   I   must 
understand  it  quite,  before  I  see  him  again — 
we  must  make  haste,  father.' 

'  Let  us  go  on  quietly  from  where  we  left 
off'  yesterday,'  said  his  father. 

'  Yes,  about  the  long  pipe,'  said  Harry. 

'  Pray,  father,'  said  Lucy,  'when  you  were 
speaking  of  the  water  staying  in  the  pipe,  why 
did  you  say,  that  the  water  would  be  held  up, 
or  sustained,  by  the  pressure  of  the  atmos- 
phere, to  thirty-three  or  thirty-four  feet  high  in 
the  tube  1 — Why  should  you  say  thirty-three 
or  thirty-four  feet  1 — Would  it  not  stay  either 
at  the  one  or  at  the  other  of  these  heights  T 

1  That  is  a  very  sensible  question,  Lucy,' 
said  her  father.  '  The  reason  is,  that  the 
pressure  of  the  atmosphere  is  not  always  the 
same.  In  fine  weather,  it  is  generally  greater 
than  when  it  rains  or  snows  ;  and  before  it 
rains  or  snows,  the  pressure,  or,  as  it  is  some- 
times called,  the  weight  of  the  atmosphere,  is 
less  than  at  some  other  times.  So  that,  if  we 
had  such  a  pipe,  or  tube,  and  if  the  upper 
part  of  it  were  transparent,  so  that  we  could 
see  into  the  inside  of  it,  we  could  tell,  by  the 
rising  and  falling  of  the  water  in  the  pipe, 
when  the  air,  or  atmosphere,  was  heavier  or 
lighter,  and  then  we  might  suppose,  that  the 
weather  was  going  to  change.  I  say  suppose, 
because  we  should  not  be  sure.' 

{  Then,  father,'  said  Harry,  '  if  the   top  of 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  259 

this  pipe  were  of  glass,  it  would  be  a  barom- 
eter, would  not  it  V 

1  Yes,  my  dear,  it  would — Now  you  know 
what  a  barometer  is.' 

'  Why  do  not  people  make  such  barometers 
as  this  T  said  Harry. 

'  Because  they  would  be  very  inconvenient,' 
said  his  father  ;  '  in  the  first  place,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  piece  them  so  as  that  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  water  could  be  easily  seen,  be- 
cause you  must  go  up  to  the  top  of  the  house 
every  time  you  wanted  to  consult  the  barom- 
eter ;  in  the  next  place,  the  frost  would  turn 
the  water  in  the  tube  into  ice  ;  and  there 
would  be  an  end  of  the  barometer.  But  the 
shining  liquor,  that  you  saw  in  your  uncle's 
barometer,  is  not  liable  to  freeze.' 

'  That  shining  liquor,'  said  Harry,  c  is  call- 
ed quicksilver  or  mercury.' 

'  Yes,'  said  his  father. — '  Here  is  some 
mercury  ;  feel  the  weight  of  it.' 

'  The  quicksilver,  that  is  in  this  glass, 
father,'  said  Lucy,  '  seems  as  heavy  as  all  the 
water  that  is  in  that  decanter.' 

'  Yes,'  said  her  father,  '  mercury  is  more 
than  fourteen  times  heavier  than  water. 
Now,  Harry,  if  the  pipe,  forty  feet  long,  which 
we  were  speaking  of  before,  was  filled  with 
quicksilver,  do  you  think  that  the  pressure  of 
the  atmosphere  would  hold  up  the  quicksilver 
thirty-four  feet  high  ?' 

'  Certainly   not,  father,'   answered  Harry  ; 


260  EARLY    LESSONS. 

'  because  the  quicksilver  is  so  much  heavier 
than  water.' 

1  Would  it  hold  it  up  one  quarter  the  same 
height  T  said  his  father. 

'  No,  it  would  not,'  answered  Harry  ;  '  he- 
cause  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  the  quicksilver 
is  more  than  four  times  heavier  than  water.' 

'  Very  true,  Harry  ;  it  has  been  found  by 
experiment,  that  the  pressure  of  the  atmos- 
phere will  sustain  a  column  of  mercury  about 
twenty-nine  inches  high  ;  sometimes,  it  will 
sustain  only  a  column  of  twenty-seven  inches ; 
and  some  times,  a  column  of  thirty,  more  or  less, 
according  to  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere.' 

'  How  long  is  the  tube  of  the  barometer  ?' 
said  Harry. 

'  It  is  generally  about  thirty-six  inches  long ; 
but,  as  the  mercury  never  rises  to  the  top  of 
the  tube,  there  is  always  an  empty  space  be- 
tween the  top  of  the  mercury  and  the  top  of 
the  glass,  which  allows  the  mercury  to  rise  or 
fall  as  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  is  more 
or  less.  The  glass  tube  of  a  barometer  is 
about  one  fourteenth  part  as  long  as  the 
leaden  pipe,  which  you  said  would  make  a 
water  barometer ;  but  the  quicksilver  is 
fourteen  times  as  heavy  as  the  water.' 

'  All  this  is  rather  difficult,'  said  Lucy. 

'  So  it  must  appear  to  you  at  first,  my 
dear,'  said  her  father  ;  but,  when  you  have 
seen  it  often  and  talked  with  your  brother 
about  it,  you  will  understand  it  more  clearly.' 

1  But  at  least,'   said   Lucy,    '  I  know  now 


HARRY    AND    LUCY.  261 

father,  what  is  meant  by  the  glass  falling 
and  rising.  It  does  not  mean  that  the  glass 
falls  or  rises,  but  that  the  mercury  rises 
or  falls  in  the  glass.' 

'  Very  true,  my  dear  Lucy  ;  saying,  that  the 
glass  rises  or  falls,  is  an  inaccurate  mode  of 
speaking.  Now,  my  dear  boy,  I  think  you 
will  be  able  to  understand  your  uncle's  barom- 
eter, when  you  see  it  to-morrow ;  particularly 
if  you  will  read,  to-night,  an  excellent  de- 
scription and  explanation  of  the  barometer, 
which  you  will  find  in  this  little  book,'  said 
his  father,  putting  '  Scientific  Dialogues'  into 
his  hands  ;  it  was  open  at  the  word  barometer. 

'  O,  thank  you,  father  !'  said  Harry. 

1  And,  my  dear  Lucy,'  said  her  father, 
turning  to  Lucy,  and  showing  her  in  a  book, 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  a  print, — '  do  you 
know  what  this  is  ?' 

1  A  thermometer,  father  —  Fahrenheit's 
thermometer — O,  I  remember  what  you  told 
me  about  Fahrenheit's  thermometer.' 

<  I  think  you  will  be  able,  now,  to  under- 
stand this  description  of  thermometers,  my 
dear ;  and  you  may  read  it  whenever  you 
please  ;'  said  her  father. 

'  I  please  to  read  it  this  instant,  father,' 
said  Lucy. 

So  Lucy  sat  down,  and  read,  in  the  '  Con- 
versations on  ChymistryJ  the  description  of 
the  thermo  neter  ;  and  Harry  read  the  expla- 
nation of  th  3  barometer,  in  '  Scientific  Dia- 
logues? And  when  they  had  finished,  they 


262  EARLY    LESSONS. 

changed  books,  and  Harry  read  what  she 
had  been  reading  ;  and  Lucy  read  what  Har- 
ry had  been  reading ;  and  they  liked  the  books, 
because  they  understood  what  they  had  read. 
— '  I  wonder  what  the  rest  of  this  book  is 
about,'  said  Harry,  turning  over  the  leaves  ; 
'  here  are  many  things  I  should  like  to  know 
something  about.' 

'  And  I  should  like,'  said  Lucy,  '  to  read 
some  more  of  these  conversations  between 
Emma,  and  Caroline,  and  Mrs.  B — .  There 
seems  to  be  drawings  here,  and  experiments 
too.  Since  father  has  shown  us  some  exper- 
iments, I  wish  to  see  more.' 

'  But,  my  dear.'  said  her  father,  'you  are  not 
able  yet  to  understand  that  book.  Look  at 
the  beginning  of  it.  Read  the  first  sentence.' 

1  Having  now  acquired  some  elementary 
notions  of  natural  philosophy ' 

'  What  are  elementary  notions  T  said  Lucy, 
stopping  short. 

'  I  know,'  said  Harry  ;  '  for  I  heard  the 
writing-master  the  other  day  tell  my  father, 
that  he  had  given  Wilmot,  the  gardener's  son, 
some  elementary  notions  of  arithmetic,  that 
is,  first  foundation  notions,  as  it  were.' 

£  Then  I  have  no  elementary  notions  of  nat- 
ural philosophy — have  I,  father  T  said  Lucy. 

'  In  the  first  place,  do  you  know  what  natu- 
ral philosophy  is,  my  dear  ?'  said  her  father. 

Lucy  hesitated  ;  and  at  last  she  said,  she 
did  not  know  clearly — she  believed,  it  was 
something  about  nature. 


HARRY    AND    LUCV.  263 

Harry  said,  he  believed  it  meant  the  knowl- 
edge of  all  natural  things — things  in  nature  , 
such  as  the  air,  and  the  fire,  and  the  water, 
and  the  earth,  and  the  trees,  and  all  those 
things,  which  we  see  in  the  world,  and 
which  are  not  made  by  the  hands  of  human 
creatures. 

Their  father  said,  that  this  was  partly  what 
was  meant. 

'  Then,'  said  Lucy,  '  I  have  no  elementary 
notions  of  natural  philosophy. 

'  Yes,  you  have,'  said  Harry — '  All  we  have 
been  learning  about  the  air,  and  the  wind, 
and  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere,  and  all 
that  father  has  been  showing  us,  about  water 
and  quicksilver ;  these  are  elementary  notions 
of  natural  philosophy,  are  not  they,  father  1' 
said  Harry. 

'  Yes ;  but  you  have,  as  yet,  icarnt  very 
little,'  said  his  father  ;  '  you  have  a  great 
deal  more  to  learn,  before  you  will  be  able  to 
understand  all  that  is  in  these  '  Conversations 
on  Chymistry,'  and  in  Scientific  Dialogues.' 

'  Well,  father,'  said  Harry,  smiling,  '  that 
is  what  you  used  to  say  to  me  about  the  ba- 
rometer ;  you  used  to  say,  a  little  while  ago, 
that  I  must  know  a  great  deal  more,  before  I 
could  understand  the  barometer ;  but  now 
I  have  learnt  all  that,  and  now  I  do  under- 
stand the  barometer  ;  and  in  time,  /  shall — • 
we  shall,  I  mean — know  enough,  I  dare  say, 
to  read  these  books,  and  to  understand  them 


264  EARLY    LESSONS. 

just  as  well  as  we  now  understand  the  ba- 
rometer and  thermometer.' 

'  Yes,  and  very  soon  too,  I  dare  say  ! — 
shall  we  not,  father  V  cried  Lucy. 

'  All  in  good  time  ;  we  will  make  haste 
slowly,  my  dear  children,'  answered  their 
father.  '  Now  go  get  ready,  as  quickly  as 
you  please,  to  go  with  your  mother  and  me 
to  your  uncle's.' 


END  OF    HARRY   AND   LUCY. 


FRANK 


BY 


MARIA     EDGEWORTH 


COMPLETE   IN   ONE   VOLUME 


BOSTON: 

CROSBY,  NICHOLS,  LEE   AND   COMPANY. 

I860. 


FRANK 


PART   I. 


THERE  was  a  little  boy,  whose  name  was 
Frank.  He  had  a  father  and  mother,  who 
were  very  kind  to  him,  and  he  loved  them  ; 
he  liked  to  talk  to  them,  and  he  liked  to  walk 
with  them,  and  he  liked  to  be  with  them. 
He  liked  to  do  what  they  asked  him  to  do  ; 
and  he  took  care  not  to  do  what  they  desired 
him  not  to  do.  When  his  father  or  mother 
said  to  him,  "  Frank,  shut  the  door,"  he  ran, 
directly,  and  shut  the  door.  When  they  said 
to  him,  "Frank,  do  not  touch  that  knife," 
he  took  his  hands  away  from  the  knife,  and 
did  not  touch  it.  He  was  an  obedient  lit- 
tle boy. 

One  evening,  when  his  father  and  mother 
were  drinking  tea,  he  was  sitting  under  the 
tea-table  ;  and  he  took  hold  of  one  of  the  legs 
of  the  table,  and  he  tried  to  pull  it  towards 
himself,  but  he  could  not  move  it.  He  took 
hold  of  another  leg  of  the  table,  and  he  found 
that  he  could  not  move  it ;  but  at  last  he 
took  hold  of  one,  which  he  found  that  he 


4  EARLY    LESSONS. 

could  move,  very  easily  ;  for  this  leg  turned 
upon  a  hinge,  and  was  not  fixed  like  the 
other  legs.  As  he  was  drawing  this  leg  of 
the  table  towards  him,  his  mother  said  to 
him,  "  Frank,  what  are  you  doing  ?  " 

And  he  answered,  "  Mamma,  I  am  playing 
with  the  leg  of  the  table." 

And  his  mother  said,  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  saying  that  you  are  playing  with  the  leg 
of  the  table  ?  » 

And  Frank  said,  "I  mean  that  I  am  pull- 
ing it  towards  me,  mamma." 

And  his  mother  said,  "  Let  it  alone,  my 
dear." 

And  Frank  took  his  hands  away  from  the 
leg  of  the  table,  and  he  let  it  alone ;  and  he 
came  from  under  the  table  ;  and  he  got  up, 
and  stood  beside  his  mother ;  and  he  said, 
"  Mamma,  I  come  away  from  the  leg  of  the 
table,  that  I  may  riot  think  of  touching  it 
any  more ; "  and  his  father  and  mother 
smiled. 

And  Frank  said,  "  But,  mother,  will  you 
tell  me  why  you  bid  me  let  it  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will,  my  dear,"  said  his  mother  ; 
and  she  then  moved  some  of  the  tea-cups  and 
saucers  to  another  table  ;  and  Frank's  fathei 
put  the  tea-urn  upon  another  table  ;  and  then 
Frank's  mother  said  to  him,  "Now,  my  dear 
Frank,  go  and  push  the  leg  of  the  table,  as 
you  did  before." 

And  Frank  pushed  the  leg  of  the  table , 


FRANK.  5 

and  when  he  had  pushed  it  a  little  way,  he 
stopped,  and  looked  up  at  his  mother,  and 
said,  "  I  see  part  of  the  top  of  the  table 
moving  down  towards  my  head,  mamma ; 
and  if  I  push  this  leg  any  farther  back,  I  am 
afraid  that  part  of  the  table  will  fall  down 
upon  my  head,  and  hurt  me." 

"  I  will  hold  up  this  part  of  the  table, 
which  is  called  the  leaf,"  said  his  mother  ; 
"  and  I  will  not  let  it  fall  down  upon  your 
head.  Pull  the  leg  of  the  table  back,  as  far 
as  you  can."  And  Frank  did  as  his  mother 
desired  him ;  and  when  he  had  pulled  it  back 
as  far  as  he  could,  his  mother  bid  him  come 
from  under  the  table  ;  and  he  did  so  ;  and  she 
said,  "  Stand  beside  me,  and  look  what  hap- 
pens when  I  let  go  this  leaf  of  the  table, 
which  I  am  now  holding." 

And  Frank  said,  "  I  know  what  will  hap- 
pen, I  believe,  mamma :  it  will  fall ;  for  now, 
that  I  have  pulled  back  the  leg,  there  is  noth- 
ing to  hold  it  up  but  your  hand." 

Then  his  mother  took  away  her  hand,  and 
the  leaf  of  the  table  fell  ;  and  Frank  put  his 
hand  upon  his  head,  and  said,  "  O,  mamma, 
that  would  have  hurt  me  very  much,  if  it  had 
fallen  upon  my  head.  I  am  glad  I  was  not 
under  the  table  when  the  leaf  fell.  And  now 
I  believe  I  know  the  reason,  mamma,  why 
you  asked  me  not  to  meddle  with  that  leg  of 
the  table ;  because  the  leaf  (is  not  that  the 
name  you  told  me?)  —  the  leaf  would  have 


O  EARLY    LESSONS. 

fallen  upon  my  head,  and  would  have  hurt 
me.  Was  not  that  the  reason,  mamma  5  " 

"  That  was  one  reason ;  but  I  had  some 
other  reasons.  Try  if  you  can  find  out  what 
they  were,  Frank,"  said  his  mother. 

And  Frank  looked  at  the  table  for  a  little 
while,  and  then  answered,  "  I  don't  know 
any  other  reasons,  mamma  ;  "  but,  as  he  was 
saying  these  words,  he  saw  his  mother  turn 
her  head  towards  the  table  upon  which  she 
had  put  the  cups  and  saucers. 

"  O,  now,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  I  know 
what  you  mean.  If  those  cups  and  saucers 
had  been  upon  this  leaf  of  the  table,  they 
would  have  slid  down  when  it  fell,  and  they 
would  have  been  broken.  And  the  urn  too, 
mamma,  would  have  come  tumbling  down ; 
and  perhaps  the  top  of  the  urn  would  have 
come  off ;  and  then  all  the  hot  water  would 
have  come  running  out,  and  would  have  wet 
the  room,  and  would  have  scalded  me,  if  I 
had  been  under  it.  I  am  very  glad,  mamma, 
that  I  did  as  you  bid  me." 


One  day,  Frank's  mother  took  him  out  to 
walk  with  her  in  the  fields ;  and  he  saw- 
flowers  of  different  colors  —  blue,  red,  yellow 
and  purple  ;  and  he  asked  his  mother  whether 
he  might  gather  some  of  these  flowers. 

She  answered,  "  Yes,  my  dear,  you  may 
gather  as  many  of  these  flowers  as  you 
please." 


FRANK.  7 

Then  Frank  ran,  and  gathered  several 
flowers  ;  and  in  one  corner  of  this  field,  upon 
a  bank,  he  saw  some  blue-bells  ;  and  he  liked 
blue-bells,  and  he  ran  and  gathered  them  ; 
and,  in  the  next  field,  he  saw  a  great  number 
of  purple  flowers,  which,  he  thought,  looked 
very  pretty  ;  and  he  got  over  the  stile,  and 
went  into  the  next  field,  and  went  close  up 
to  the  purple  flowers ;  they  had  yellow  in  the 
middle  of  them,  and  they  grew  upon  a  plant 
which  had  a  great  number  of  green  leaves. 

As  Frank  was  pulling  some  of  the  purple 
flowers,  he  shook  the  green  leaves  ;  and  he 
saw  amongst  them  several  little  green  balls, 
which  looked  like  very  small  apples.  Frank 
wished  to  taste  them  ;  and  he  was  just  going 
to  pull  one  from  the  stalk,  when  he  recollect- 
ed that  his  mother  had  not  given  him  leave 
to  have  them  ;  and  he  ran  back  to  his  mother, 
and  said,  "  Mamma,  may  I  have  some  of 
those  nice  little  apples  ?  "  and  he  pointed  to 
the  plants  on  which  the  purple  flowers  grew. 
His  mother  answered,  "  I  do  not  see  any  ap- 
ples, my  dear." 

"  You  will  see  them,  mamma,  if  you  will 
come  a  little  closer  to  them,"  said  Frank  ; 
and  he  took  his  mother  by  the  hand,  and  led 
her  to  the  plants,  and  showed  her  the  little 
green  balls,  which  he  thought  were  apples. 

"  My  dear  little  boy,"  said  his  mother, 
''  these  are  not  apples ;  these  things  are  not 
good  to  be  eaten  ;  they  are  poisonous  j  they 


8  EARLY    LESSONS. 

would  have  made  you  sick,  if  you  had  eaten 
them." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Frank,  "  that  I  did  not 
taste  them.  But  may  I  have  one  of  them  for 
a  ball  ? " 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  his  mother ;  "do  not 
meddle  with  any  of  them." 

Frank  walked  on,  in  the  path,  beside  his 
mother,  and  he  did  not  meddle  with  any  of 
the  little  green  balls.  And  he  saw  at  a  little 
distance  from  him  a  boy,  who  was  digging  ; 
and  when  he  came  near  to  this  boy,  Frank 
saw  that  he  was  digging  up  some  of  the 
plants  that  bore  the  pretty  purple  flowers  ; 
and  Frank  said,  "  Mamma,  why  does  this 
boy  dig  up  these  things  ?  Is  he  going  to 
throw  them  away  ?  " 

And  Frank's  mother  said,  "  Look,  and  you 
will  see  what  part  of  them  he  keeps,  and 
what  part  of  them  he  throws  away." 

And  Frank  looked,  and  he  saw  that  the 
boy  pulled  off  the  brown  and  white  round 
roots  of  the  plant,  and  he  put  those  roots  into 
a  basket.  The  green  part  of  the  plant,  and 
the  purple  flowers,  and  the  green  balls,  which 
Frank  mistook  for  apples,  he  saw  that  the 
boy  threw  away. 

And  Frank  said  to  his  mother,  "  What  are 
those  roots  in  the.  basket  ?  " 

His  mother  said,  "Look  at  them,  and  try 
if  you  can  find  out.     You  have  eaten  roots 
like  them  ;  you  often  see  roots  like  these  a 
dinner." 


FRANK.  9 

•'  I  do  not  remember,"  said  Frank,  "  ever 
having  seen  such  dirty  things  as  these  at 
dinner." 

"  They  are  washed  and  boiled  before  you 
see  them  at  dinner,  and  then  they  look 
white,"  said  his  mother. 

Frank  looked  again  at  the  roots  which 
were  in  the  basket ;  and  he  said,  "  Mamma, 
1  think  that  they  are  potatoes." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  they  are  potatoes,"  said 
his  mother  ;  and  then  Frank  and  his  mother 
went  on  a  little  farther,  and  they  came  to  a 
large,  shady  tree  ;  and  Frank's  mother  sat 
down  upon  a  bank  under  the  shade  of  this 
tree,  to  cool  and  rest  herself ;  for  she  was  hot 
and  tired.  Frank  was  not  tired,  therefore  he 
did  not  sit  down ;  but  he  amused  himself 
with  trying  to  reach  some  of  the  branches  of 
the  tree  which  hung  over  his  head. 

He  jumped  up  as  high  as  he  could,  to 
catch  them  ;  but  he  found  that  several,  which 
he  thought  he  could  reach,  he  could  not 
touch,  even  when  he  stretched  out  his  hand 
arid  arm,  and  stood  on  tiptoe. 

At  last  he  saw  a  bough  which  hung  lower 
than  the  other  boughs,  and  he  jumped  up 
and  caught  hold  of  it ;  and  he  held  it  down, 
that  he  might  look  at  the  leaves  of  the  tree. 

"  Mamma,"  said  he,  "  these  leaves  are  not 
like  the  leaves  of  the  tree  which  is  near  the 
hall  door,  at  home.  You  told  me  the  name 
of  that  tree  ;  that  tree  is  called  a  beech. 


.  0  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  tree  ?  " 

"  This  tree  is  called  ahorse-chestnut-tree." 

"Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "here  are  little 
balls  upon  this  tree ;  they  are  something  like 
those  I  saw  upon  the  potatoes.  I  won't 
meddle  with  them  ;  they  have  prickles  upon 
them." 

And  Frank's  mother  said,  "  You  may 
gather  some  of  these  little  balls,  my  dear ; 
these  are  not  of  the  same  sort  as  those  you 
saw  on  the  potato-plants.  These  are  not 
poisonous  ;  these  are  called  horse-chestnuts  : 
the  prickles  are  not  very  sharp ;  you  may 
break  them  off." 

"  How  many  of  these  horse-chestnuts  may 
I  gather,  mamma  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"  You  may  gather  four  of  them,  my  dear," 
said  his  mother ;  and  Frank  gathered  four  of 
the  horse-chestnuts.  Then  he  let  go  the 
bough  ;  and  he  sat  down  upon  the  bank,  be- 
side his  mother,  to  examine  his  horse-chest- 
nuts. His  mother  broke  one  of  them  open 
for  him  ;  the  inside  of  the  green  husk  was 
white  and  soft,  and,  in  the  middle  of  this 
white,  soft  substance,  there  lay  a  smooth 
shining  kernel,  of  the  color  of  mahogany. 

"  Is  it  good  to  eat,  mamma  ?  "  said  Frank. 
— "  May  I  taste  it  ?  " 

"  You  may  taste  it,  if  you  please,  my 
dear,"  said  his  mother  ;  "  but  I  do  not  think 
that  you  will  like  it,  for  that  brown  skin  has 
a  bitter  taste,  arid  I  do  not  think  the  inside 


FRANK.  11 

of  it  is  agreeable  ;  but  you  may  taste  it,  if 
you  like  it." 

Frank  tasted  it,  and  he  did  not  like  the 
bitter  of  the  outside  ;  and  he  said,  "  Mamma, 
I  will  always  take  care  to  ask  you  before  I 
meddle  with  things,  or  taste  them,  because 
you  know  more  than  I  do,  and  you  can  tell 
me  whether  they  are  good  for  me  or  not." 

Frank's  mother,  having  now  rested  herself, 
got  up  from  her  seat ;  and  she  walked  home  ; 
and  Frank  carried  his  three  horse-chestnuts 
home  with  him.  He  did  not  put  them  into 
his  mouth,  because  he  had  learned  that  they 
tasted  bitter,  but  he  used  them  as  balls  ;  and 
he  rolled  them  along  the  floor,  when  he  got 
into  the  house ;  and  he  was  very  happy  play- 
ing with  them. 


Another  day,  Frank  went  out  to  walk  with 
his  mother  ;  and  he  came  to  a  gate  that  was 
painted  green  ;  and  he  stopped  at  the  gate, 
and  looked  between  the  rails  of  it ;  and  he 
saw  a  pretty  garden,  with  several  beds  of 
flowers  in  it  ;  and  there  were  nice,  clean 
gravel-walks  between  these  flower-beds,  and 
all  around  the  garden.  And  against  the  walls 
of  the  garden  there  were  plum-trees  and 
cherry-trees ;  and  the  cherries  and  plums 
looked  as  if  they  were  quite  ripe. 

And  Frank  called  to  his  mothe-,  who  was 
a  little  way  off;  and  he  said,  "  Mamma,  come 


12 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


look  at  this  pretty  garden  —  I  wish  I 
might  open  this  gate,  and  go  in  and  walk 
in  it." 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  mother,  "  you  must 
not  open  the  gate.  This  garden  does  not  be- 
long to  me,  and  I  cannot  give  you  leave  to 
walk  in  it." 

There  was  a  man  nailing  up  a  net  over  a 
cherry-tree  in  this  garden,  and  he  came  to 
the  gate,  and  opened  it,  and  said,  "  Will  you 
walk  in,  ma'am  ?  This  garden  belongs  to 
me,  and  you  shall  be  very  welcome  to  walk 
in  it."  And  Frank's  mother  thanked  the 
man  ;  and  she  turned  to  Frank,  and  said,  "  If 
I  take  you  with  me,  Frank,  to  walk  in  this 
garden,  you  must  take  care  not  to  meddle 


FRANK.  13 

with  any  thing  in  it."  And  Frank  said  that 
he  would  not  meddle  with  any  thing  in  the 
garden  ;  and  his  mother  took  him  into  it. 

As  he  walked  along  the  gravel- walks,  he 
looked  at  every  thing  ;  but  he  did  not  touch 
any  thing. 

A  very  sweet  smell  came  from  two  beds 
of  pinks  and  carnations ;  and  he  stood  at  a 
little  distance  from  them,  looking  at  them  ; 
and  the  man  to  whom  the  garden  belonged 
said  to  him,  "  Walk  down  this  narrow  path, 
master,  between  the  beds,  and  you'll  see  my 
carnations  better." 

And  Frank  answered,  "  I  should  like  to 
come  down  that  narrow  path,  but  I  am  afraid 
of  coming,  because  the  skirts  of  my  coat,  I 
am  afraid,  will  brush  against  the  flowers.  I 
saw  your  coat,  just  now,  sir,  hit  against  the 
top  of  a  flower,  and  it  broke  it." 

Frank's  mother  smiled,  and  said,  "  I  am 
glad,  my  dear  little  boy,  that  you  are  so  care- 
ful not  to  do  mischief." 

Frank  did  not  tread  upon  any  of  the  bor- 
ders ;  and  the  person  to  whom  the  garden 
belonged,  who  was  a  gardener,  said  to  his 
mother,  "  I  hope,  whenever  you  come  this 
way  again,  ma'am,  you'll  walk  in  this  garden 
of  mine,  and  bring  this  little  gentleman  with 
you  ;  for  I  am  sure,  by  what  I  see  of  him 
now,  that  he  will  not  do  me  any  mischief." 

The  gardener  told  Frank  the  ttames  of 
several  flowers ;  and  he  show  3d  him  the  seeds 


14  EARLY    LESSONS. 

of  these  flowers  ;  and  he  showed  Frank  how 
these  seeds  should  be  sowed  in  the  ground. 

And  whilst  the  gardener  was  showing 
Frank  how  to  sow  the  seeds  of  mignionette, 
he  heard  a  noise  at  the  gate  ;  and  he  looked, 
and  he  saw  a  boy,  who  was  shaking  the  gate, 
and  trying  to  get  in  ;  but  the  gate  was  locked, 
and  the  boy  could  not  open  it ;  and  the  boy 
called  to  the  gardener,  and  said,  "  Let  me  in  ; 
let  me  in.  Won't  you  let  me  in  ?  " 

But  the  gardener  answered,  "  No  —  I  will 
not  let  you  come  in,  sir,  I  assure  you  ;  for 
when  I  did  let  you  in,  yesterday,  you  med- 
dled with  my  flowers,  and  you  ate  some  of 
my  cherries.  I  do  not  choose  to  let  you  in 
here  again ;  I  do  not  choose  to  let  a  dishonest 
boy  into  my  garden,  who  meddles  with  what 
does  not  belong  to  him." 

This  boy  looked  very  much  ashamed,  and 
very  sorry,  that  he  might  not  come  into  the 
pretty  garden  ;  and  he  stood  at  the  gate  for 
some  time  ;  but  when  he  found  that  the  gar- 
dener would  not  let  him  in,  he  went  slowly 
away. 

A  little  while  afterwards,  Frank  asked  his 
mother  why  she  did  not  gather  some  of  the 
pinks  in  this  garden  ;  and  his  mother  an- 
swered, "  Because  they  are  not  mine ;  and  I 
must  not  meddle  with  what  does  not  belong 
to  me." 

"  I  did  not  know,  till  now,  mamma,"  said 
Frank,  "  that  you  must  not  meddle  with  what 


FRANK.  15 

does  not  belong  to  you.  I  thought  that  peo- 
ple only  said  to  little  boys,  You  must  not 
meddle  with  what  does  not  belong  to  you." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Frank's  mother,  "neither 
women,  nor  men,  nor  children,  should  meddle 
with  what  does  not  belong  to  them.  Little 
children  do  not  know  this,  till  it  is  told  to 
them." 

"And,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "what  is 
the  reason  that  men,  women,  and  children, 
should  not  meddle  with  what  does  not  belong 
to  them?" 

Frank's  mother  answered,  "  I  cannot  ex- 
plain all  the  reasons  to  you  yet,  my  dear;  but 
should  you  like  that  any  body  should  take 
flowers  out  of  the  little  garden  you  have  at 
home  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma,  I  should  not." 

"  And  did  you  not  see  that  the  boy  who 
just  now  came  to  this  green  gate  was  pre- 
vented by  the  gardener  from  coming  into  this 
garden,  because,  yesterday,  the  boy  took 
flowers  and  fruit  which  did  not  belong  to 
him  ?  You,  Frank,  have  not  meddled  with 
any  of  these  flowers,  or  this  fruit ;  and,  you 
know,  the  gardener  said,  that  he  would  let 
you  come  in  here  again,  whenever  I  like  to 
bring  you  with  me." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  that,  mamma,"  said 
Frank  ;  "  for  I  like  to  walk  in  this  pretty 
garden  ;  and  I  will  take  care  not  to  meddle 
with  any  thing  that  does  not  belong  to  me.' 


16  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Then  Frank's  mother  said,  "  It  is  time  that 
we  should  go  home."  And  Frank  thanked 
the  gardener  for  letting  him  walk  in  his  gar- 
den, and  for  showing  him  how  to  sow  seeds 
in  the  ground  ;  and  Frank  went  home  with 
his  mother. 


A  few  days  after  Frank  had  been  with  his 
mother  to  walk  in  the  garden  that  had  the 
green  gate,  his  mother  said  to  him,  "  Frank, 
put  on  your  hat,  and  come  with  me.  I  am 
going  to  the  garden  in  which  we  walked  two 
or  three  days  ago." 

Frank  was  very  glad  to  hear  this.  He  put 
on  his  hat  in  an  instant,  and  followed  his 
mother,  jumping  and  singing  as  he  went 
along. 

When  he  got  into  the  fields  which  led  to 
the  garden  with  the  green  gate,  Frank  ran  on 
before  his  mother.  They  came  to  a  stile, 
upon  which  a  boy,  of  about  Frank's  size,  was 
sitting,  upon  the  uppermost  step  of  the  stile. 
He  had  a  hat  upon  his  knees,  in  which  there 
were  some  nuts  ;  and  the  boy  was  picking 
the  white  kernel  of  a  nut  out  of  its  shell. 

When  the  boy  saw  Frank,  he  said  to  him, 
"  Do  you  want  to  get  over  this  stile  ?  " 

And  Frank  answered,  "  Yes,  I  do." 

The  boy  then  got  up  from  the  step  of  the 
stile  on  which  he  was  sitting  ;  and  he  jumped 


FRANK.  17 

down,  and  walked  on,  that  he  might  make 
room  for  Frank  to  get  over  the  stile. 

Frank  and  his  mother  got  over  the  stile  ; 
and,  in  the  path  in  the  next  field,  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  stile,  Frank  saw  a  fine 
bunch  of  nuts. 

"Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "I  think  these 
nuts  belong  to  that  little  boy  who  was  sitting 
upon  the  stile,  with  nuts  in  his  hat ;  perhaps 
he  dropped  them,  and  did  not  know  it.  May 
I  pick  them  up,  and  run  after  the  little  boy, 
and  give  them  to  him  ?  " 

His  mother  said,  "  Yes,  my  dear  ;  and  I 
will  go  back  with  you  to  the  boy."  So 
Frank  picked  up  the  nuts,  and  he  and  his 
mother  went  back ;  and  he  called  to  the  little 
boy,  who  stopped  when  he  heard  him  call. 

And  as  soon  as  Frank  got  near  to  him,  and 
as  soon  as  he  had  breath  to  speak,  Frank  said 
to  the  boy,  "  Here  are  some  nuts,  which  I 
believe  are  yours  ;  I  found  them  in  the  path, 
near  that  stile." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  boy ;  "  they  are 
mine  ;  I  dropped  them  there  ;  and  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  for  bringing  them  back  to  me." 

Frank  saw  that  the  boy  was  glad  to  have 
his  nuts  again  ;  and  Frank  was  glad  that  he 
had  found  them,  and  that  he  had  returned 
them  to  the  person  to  whom  they  belonged. 

Frank  then  went  on  with  his  mother ;  and 
they  came  to  the  garden  with  the  green  gate 
The  gardener  was  tying  the  pinks  and  carna- 
2* 


EARLY    LESSONS. 

tions  to  white  sticks,  which  he  stuck  in  the 
ground  near  them.  He  did  this  to  prevent 
he  flowers  from  hanging  down  in  the  dirt, 
and  from  being  broken  by  the  wind. 

Frank  told  his  mother  that  he  thought  he 
could  tie  up  some  of  these  flowers,  and  that 
he  should  like  to  try  to  do  it. 

She  asked  the  gardener  if  he  would  let 
Frank  try  to  help  him. 

The  gardener  said  he  would ;  and  he  gave 
Frank  a  bundle  of  sticks,  and  some  strings 
.jnade  of  bass  mat ;  and  Frank  stuck  the  sticks 
in  the  ground,  and  tied  the  pinks  and  carna- 
tions to  them  ;  and  he  said,  "  Mamma,  I  am 
of  some  use  ;  "  and  he  was  happy  whilst  he 
vas  employed  in  this  manner. 

After  the  flowers  were  all  tied  up,  the  gar- 
dener went  to  the  cherry-tree,  which  was 
nailed  up  against  the  wall,  and  he  took  down 
the  net,  which  was  spread  over  it. 

Frank  asked  his  mother  why  this  net  had 
oeen  spread  over  it. 

She  told  him  that  it  was  to  prevent  the 
oirds  from  pecking  at  and  eating  the  cherries. 

The  cherries  looked  very  ripe,  and  the 
gardener  began  to  gather  them. 

Frank  asked  whether  he  might  help  him 
o  gather  some  of  the  cherries. 

His  mother  said,  "  Yes  ;  I  think  the  gar- 
dener will  trust  you  to  gather  his  cherries, 
Because  he  has  seen  that  you  have  not  med- 
dled with  any  of  his  things  without  his  leave." 


FRANK.  19 

The  gardener  said  that  he  would  trust  him ; 
and  Frank  was  glad  ;  and  he  gathered  all  the 
cherries  that  he  could  reach,  that  were  ripe. 

The  gardener  desired  that  he  would  not 
gather  any  that  were  not  ripe  ;  and  his  mother 
showed  Frank  a  ripe  and  an  unripe  cherry, 
that  he  might  know  the  difference  between 
them  ;  and  she  asked  the  gardener  if  he  would 
let  Frank  taste  these  two  cherries,  that  he 
might  know  the  difference  in  the  taste. 

"  If  you  please,  ma'am,"  said  the  gardener ; 
and  Frank  tasted  the  cherries  ;  and  he  found 
that  the  ripe  cherry  was  sweet,  and  the  un- 
ripe cherry  was  sour. 

The  gardener  told  him  that  the  cherries 
which  were  now  unripe  would  grow  ripe  in 
a  few  days,  if  they  were  left  to  hang  upon 
the  tree,  and  if  the  sun  shone. 

And  Frank  said,  "  Mamma,  if  you  let  me 
come  with  you  here  in  a  few  days,  I  will  look 
at  these  cherries,  that  I  may  see  whether  they 
do  grow  ripe." 

Frank  took  care  to  gather  only  the  cherries 
that  were  ripe  ;  and  when  he  had  filled  the 
basket  into  which  the  gardener  asked  him  to 
put  them,  the  gardener  picked  out  five  or  six 
bunches  of  the  ripest  cherries,  and  he  offered 
them  to  Frank. 

"  May  I  have  them,  mamma?  "  said  Frank 

His  mother  said,  "  Yes,  you  may,  my  dear.' 

Then  he  took  them  ;  and  he  thanked  the 
gardener  for  giving  them  to  him ;  and  aftei 


20 


£AHLV    LESSONS. 


this,  he  and  his  mother  left  the  garden,  and 
returned  towards  home. 

He  asked  his  mother  to  eat  some  of  the 
cherries,  and  she  took  one  bunch  ;  and  she 
said  that  she  liked  them. 

"  And  I  will  keep  another  bunch  for  papa," 
said  Frank,  "  because  I  know  he  likes  cher- 
ries." 

And  Frank  ate  all  the  rest  of  the  cherries, 
except  the  bunch  which  he  kept  for  his  fa- 
ther ;  and  he  said,  "  I  wish,  mother,  you  would 
give  me  a  little  garden,  and  some  mignionette- 
seeds,  to  sow  in  it." 

She  answered,  "  This  is  not  the  time  of 
year  in  which  mignionette-seeds  should  be 
sown.  The  seeds  will  not  grow,  if  you  sow 
them  now  ;  we  must  wait  till  spring." 

Frank  was  going  to  say,  "  How  many 
months  will  it  be  between  this  time  and 
spring  ?  "  but  he  forgot  what  he  was  going  to 
say,  because  he  saw  a  boy  in  the  field  in 
which  they  were  walking,  who  had  some- 
thing made  of  white  paper  in  his  hand,  which 
was  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

"  What  is  that,  mamma?  "  said  Frank. 

"  It  is  a  paper  kite,  my  dear,"  said  his 
mother ;  "  you  shall  see  the  boy  flying  this 
kite,  if  you  please." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  flying 
the  kite,  mamma,"  said  Frank. 

"  Look  at  what  the  boy  is  doing,  and  you 
will  see." 


FRANK.  '4 1 

Frank  looked ;  and  he  saw  the  paper  kite 
blown  up  by  the  wind  ;  and  it  mounted  up 
higher  than  the  trees,  and  went  higher  and 
higher,  till  it  seemed  to  touch  the  clouds,  and 
till  it  appeared  no  larger  than  a  little  black 
spot ;  and  at  last  Frank  lost  sight  of  it  en- 
tirely. 

The  boy  who  had  been  flying  the  kite  now 
ran  up  to  the  place  where  Frank  was  stand- 
ing ;  and  Frank  saw  that  he  was  the  same 
boy  to  whom  he  had  returned  the  nuts. 

The  boy  held  one  end  of  a  string  in  his 
hand  ;  and  the  other  end  of  the  string,  Frank's 
mother  told  him,  was  fastened  to  the  kite. 
The  boy  pulled  the  string  towards  him,  and 
wound  it  up  on  a  bit  of  wood  ;  and  Frank 
saw  the  paper  kite  again,  coming  downwards ; 
and  it  fell  lower,  and  lower,  and  lower  ;  and, 
at  last,  it  fell  to  the  ground. 

The  boy  to  whom  it  belonged  went  to  fetch 
it ;  and  Frank's  mother  said,  "  Now  we  must 
make  haste  and  go  home." 

Frank  followed  his  mother,  asking  her 
several  questions  about  the  kite  ;  and  he  did 
not  perceive  that  he  had  not  his  bunch  of 
cherries  in  his  hand,  till  he  was  near  home. 
When  his  mother  said,  "  There  is  your  fa- 
ther coming  to  meet  us,"  Frank  cried,  "  O 
mamma,  my  cherries,  the  nice  bunch  of  cher- 
ries, that  I  kept  to  give  him  —  I  have  dropped 
them  —  I  have  lost  them.  I  am  very  sorry 
for  it ;  may  I  run  back  to  look  for  them  ?  I 


82  EARLY    LESSONS. 

think  1  dropped  them  whilst  I  was  looking  at 
the  kite.  May  I  go  back  to  that  field,  and 
look  for  them  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  his  mother ;  "  it  is 
just  dinner-time." 

Frank  was  sorry  for  this  ;  and  he  looked 
back  towards  the  field  where  he  lost  his  cher- 
ries ;  and  he  saw  the  boy  with  the  kite  in  his 
hand,  running  very  fast  across  the  field  near- 
est to  him. 

"  I  think  he  seems  to  be  running  to  us, 
mamma,"  said  Frank.  "  Will  you  wait  one 
minute  ?  " 

His  mother  stopped  ;  and  the  boy  ran  up 
to  them,  quite  out  of  breath.  He  held  his 
kite  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  hand  he 
held  Frank's  bunch  of  cherries. 

"  O,  my  cherries  !  thank  you  for  bringing 
them  to  me,"  said  Frank. 

"  You  seem  to  be  as  glad  as  I  was,  when 
you  brought  me  my  nuts,"  said  the  boy. 
"  You  dropped  the  cherries  in  the  field  where 
I  was  flying  my  kite.  I  knew  they  were 
yours,  because  I  saw  them  in  your  hand, 
when  you  were  looking  at  my  kite." 

Frank  thanked  the  boy  again  for  returning 
them  to  him  ;  and  his  mother  also  said  to  the 
boy,  "Thank  you,  my  little  honest  boy." 

"  I  was  honest,  mamma,  when  I  returned 
his  nuts  to  him  ;  and  he  was  honest  when  he 
returned  my  cherries.  I  liked  him  for  being 
honest,  and  he  liked  me  for  being  honest  I 


FRANK. 


will  always  be  honest  about  every  thing,  as 
well  as  about  nuts."  Then  Frank  ran  to 
meet  his  father,  with  the  ripe  bunch  of  cher- 
ries, and  gave  them  to  him  ;  and  his  father 
liked  them  very  much. 


The  evening  after  Frank  had  seen  the  boy 
flying  a  kite,  he  asked  his  father  if  he  would 
be  so  good  as  to  give  him  a  kite. 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  father,  "  I  am  busy 
now ;  I  am  writing  a  letter ;  and  I  cannot 
think  about  kites  now.  Do  not  talk  to  me 
about  kites,  when  I  am  busy." 

When  his  father  had  finished  writing  his 
letter,  he  folded  it  up,  and  took  some  sealing- 
wax  to  seal  it ;  and  Frank  watched  the  seal- 
ing-wax, as  it  was  melted  by  the  heat  of  the 
candle.  He  saw  that  his  father  let  some  of 
the  melted  sealing-wax  drop  upon  the  paper  ; 
and  then  he  pressed  the  seal  down  upon  the 
wax,  which  had  dropped  upon  the  paper,  and 
which  was  then  soft. 

When  the  seal  was  taken  up,  Frank  saw 
that  there  was  the  figure  of  the  head  of  a  man 
upon  the  wax.  And  he  looked  at  the  bottom 
of  the  seal ;  and  he  said,  "  This  is  the  same 
head  that  there  is  upon  the  wax,  only  this  on 
the  seal  goes  inwards,  and  that  on  the  wax 
comes  outwards." 

He  touched  the  wax  upon  which  the  seal 
had  been  pressed  ;  and  he  felt  that  it  was  now 


24  EARLY    LESSONS. 

cold  and  hard ;  and  he  said,  "  Papa,  are  you 
busy  now  ?  " 

And  his  father  said  that  he  was  not  busy. 

And  Frank  asked  him  if  he  would  drop 
some  more  wax  on  a  bit  of  paper,  and  press 
the  seal  down  upon  it. 

"  Yes,"  said  his  father ;  "  you  were  not 
troublesome  to  me,  when  I  said  that  I  was 
busy.  Now  I  have  leisure  to  attend  to  you, 
my  dear." 

His  father  then  took  out  of  a  drawer  three 
different  seals  ;  and  he  sealed  three  different 
letters  with  these,  and  let  Frank  see  him  drop 
the  wax  upon  the  paper,  and  press  the  seals 
upon  the  soft  wax. 

"  Papa,  will  you  give  me  leave  to  try  if  I 
can  do  it  myself?"  said  Frank. 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  father,  "  I  will ;  but  1 
advise  you  to  take  care  not  to  let  any  of  the 
melted  wax  drop  upon  your  hands,  for  it  will 
burn  you  if  you  do." 

Frank  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  melt  the  wax. 
His  mother  called  to  him,  and  said,  "  Gently, 
Frank,  or  you  will  let  the  wax  drop  upon 
your  hand,  and  burn  yourself." 

But  he  said,  "  O,  no,  mamma ;  it  will  not 
burn  me." 

And,  just  after  he  had  said  this,  a  drop  of 
the  melted  sealing-wax  fell  upon  the  forefinger 
of  his  hand,  and  burned  him  ;  and  he  squeezed 
his  finger  as  hard  as  he  could,  to  try  to  stop 
the  feeling  of  pain.  "  It  hurts  me  very  much, 


FRANK.  25 

mamma  !  I  wish  I  had  minded  what  you  said 
to  me;  but  I  will  not  cry — I  will  bear  it 
well." 

"  You  do  bear  it  well,"  said  his  father ; 
"  shake  hands  with  me,  with  the  hand  that  is 
not  burnt." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  Frank  said  that 
he  did  not  feel  the  pain  any  longer ;  and  he 
asked  his  father  if  he  would  give  him  leave  to 
have  the  sealing-wax  again,  and  try  whethei 
he  could  not  make  such  a  seal  as  he  had  seen 
on  his  father's  letter,  without  burning  himself. 
"  You  did  not  burn  yourself,  papa,"  said 
Frank  ;  "  and  if  I  take  care,  and  do  it  as  you 
did,  I  shall  not  burn  myself.  May  I  try 
again  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  his  father  ;  "  and  I 
am  glad  to  see  that  you  wish  to  try  again, 
though  you  have  had  a  little  pain." 

His  father  showed  him,  once  more,  how  to 
hold  the  wax  to  the  candle,  and  how  to  drop 
it,  when  melting,  upon  the  paper,  without 
burning  himself. 

And  Frank  succeeded  very  well  this  time, 
and  made  a  good  seal,  and  showed  it  to  his 
mother. 

"  Is  not  it  a  good  seal,  mamma  ?  "  said  he. 
"  I  took  care  not  to  hold  the  wax  this  time  as 
I  did  the  last,  when  I  burned  myself." 

"Yes,"  said  his  mother,  "  I  dare  say  you 
remember  how  you  held  it  when  you  burned 
yourself." 

3 


26  KAHLiT    LESSONS, 

"  O,  yes,  that  I  do,  mamma ;  the  pain  makes 
me  remember  it,  I  believe." 

"  And  I  dare  say  you  remember  how  you 
held  the  wax,  when  you  made  this  pretty 
seal." 

"  O,  yes,  mamma,  that  I  do  ;  and  I  shall 
remember  to  do  it  the  same  way  the  next 
time." 

"  You  have  been  rewarded  for  your  patience, 
by  having  succeeded  in  making  this  seal ; 
and  you  were  punished  for  your  carelessness, 
by  having  burned  your  forefinger." 

Frank  remembered  that  his  father  desired 
him  not  to  talk  to  him  about  kites  when  he 
was  busy  ;  and  though  Frank  was  very  eager 
to  have  a  kite,  he  waited  till  he  saw  that  hig 
father  was  neither  reading  nor  writing,  nor 
talking  to  any  body.  Then  he  said,  "  Papa, 
I  believe  you  are  not  busy  now ;  will  you  give 
me  a  kite  ?" 

"I  have  not  a  kite  ready  made,  in  my 
house,"  replied  his  father  ;  "  but  I  will  show 
you  how  to  make  one ;  and  I  will  give  you 
some  paper,  and  some  paste,  and  some  wood, 
to  make  it  of."  Then  his  father  gave  him 
three  large  sheets  of  paper ;  and  his  mother 
rang  the  bell,  and  desired  the  servant  would 
order  the  cook  to  make  some  paste. 

And  Frank  asked  his  mother  how  the  cook 
made  paste,  and  what  she  would  make  it  of. 

His  mother  took  him  by  the  hand,  and 
said,  "  You  shall  see  j  "  and  she  took  Frank 


FRANK.  27 

down  stairs  with  her,  into  the  kitchen,  where 
he  had  never  been  before;  and  she  staid 
with  him  whilst  he  looked  at  the  manner  in 
which  the  cook  made  the  paste. 

"  What  is  that  white  powder,  mamma, 
which  the  cook  is  taking  up  in  her  hands  ? " 
said  Frank. 

"It  is  called  flour,,  my  dear.  You  may 
take  some  of  it  in  your  hand  ;  and  you  may 
taste  it." 

"  What  does  it  come  from,  mamma  ?  " 

"  From  corn,  my  dear.  You  have  seen 
corn  growing  in  the  field ;  and  when  we 
walk  out  again  into  the  field  where  there  is 
corn,  if  you  will  put  me  in  mind,  I  will  show 
you  the  part  of  the  plant  from  which  flour  is 
made." 

"  Made,  mamma !  how  is  it  made  ?  " 

"  It  is  ground  in  a  mill ;  but.  I  cannot  ex- 
plain to  you,  now,  what  I  mean  by  that. 
When  you  see  a  mill,  you  will  know." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  a  mill,"  said  Frank, 
"now,  this  minute." 

"  But  I  cannot  show  it  to  you,  Frank,  now, 
this  minute,"  said  his  mother  ;  "  besides,  you 
came  here  to  see  how  paste  was  made ;  and 
you  had  better  attend  to  that  now." 

Frank  attended  ;  and  he  saw  how  paste 
was  made.  —  And  when  the  paste  was  made, 
it  was  left  upon  a  plate  to  cool. 

Frank,  as  soon  as  it  was  cool  enough  to  ba 
used,  took  it  to  his  father,  and  asked  him  if 


28  EARLY    LESSONS. 

he  might  now  begin  to  make  his  kite  ;  but 
his  father  said,  "My  dear,  I  cannot  find  a 
slip  of  wood  for  you ;  and  you  cannot  well 
make  your  kite  without  that ;  but  I  am  going 
to  the  carpenter's,  and  I  can  get  such  a  bit  as 
I  want  from  him.  If  you  wish  to  come,  you 
may  come  with  me." 

Frank  said  that  he  should  like  to  go  to  the 
carpenter's ;  so  his  father  took  him  along  with 
him. 

The  carpenter  lived  in  a  village  which 
was  about  a  mile  from  Frank's  home  ;  and 
the  way  to  it  was  by  the  turnpike  road. 

As  he  walked  along  with  his  father,  he 
saw  some  men  who  were  lifting  up  a  tree, 
which  they  had  just  cut  down.  It  had  been 
growing  in  a  hedge  by  the  road-side.  The 
men  put  the  tree  upon  a  sort  of  carriage,  and 
then  they  dragged  the  carriage  along  the 
road. 

"  What  are  they  going  to  do  with  this 
tree,  papa  ? "  said  Frank.  "  Will  you  ask 
them  ? " 

The  men  said  that  they  were  carrying  the 
tree  to  the  saw-pit,  to  have  it  cut  into  boards. 

They  went  on  a  little  farther ;  and  then 
the  men  turned  up  a  lane,  and  dragged  the 
carnage,  with  the  tree  upon  it,  after  them  ; 
and  Frank  told  his  father  that  he  should 
like  very  much  to  see  the  saw-pit. 

It  was  not  far  off ;  and  his  father  went 
down  the  lane,  and  showed  it  to  him. 


FRANK.  29 

At  the  saw-pit,  Frank  observed  how  the 
sawyer  sawed  wood ;  he  looked  at  some 
boards,  which  had  just  been  sawed  asunder. 
When  the  sawyer  rested  himself,  Frank  look- 
ed at  the  large,  sharp  teeth  of  his  saw ;  and 
when  the  sawyer  went  on  with  his  work, 
Frank's  father  asked  him  to  saw  slowly ;  and 
Frank  observed  that  the  teeth  of  the  saw  cut 
and  broke  off  very  small  parts  of  the  wood,  as 
the  saw  was  pushed  and  drawn  backwards 
and  forwards.  He  saw  a  great  deal  of  yel- 
low dust  in  the  saw-pit,  which  his  father  told 
him  was  called  saw-dust ;  and  fresh  saw-dust 
fell  from  the  teeth  of  the  saw  as  it  was 
moved. 

The  men  who  had  brought  the  tree  to  be 
sawed  into  boards  were  all  this  time  busy  in 
cutting  off,  with  a  hatchet,  the  small  branches ; 
and  Frank  turned  to  look  at  what  they  were 
doing  ;  but  his  father  said,  "  Frank,  I  cannot 
wait  any  longer  now  ;  I  have  business  to  do 
at  the  carpenter's."  So  Frank  followed  his 
father  directly  ;  and  they  went  on,  as  fast  as 
they  could,  to  the  carpenter's. 

When  they  came  to  the  door  of  his  work- 
shop, they  heard  the  noise  of  hammering  ; 
and  Frank  clapped  his  hands,  and  said,  "  I 
am  glad  to  hear  hammering  —  I  shall  like  to 
hammer,  myself." 

"  But,"  said  his  father,  stopping  him,  just 
as  he  pulled  up  the  latch  of  the  door,  "  re- 
member that  the  hammer  in  this  house  is  not 


30  EARLY    LESSONS. 

yours ;  and  you  must  not  meddle  with  it,  nor 
with  any  of  the  carpenter's  tools,  without  his 
leave." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  said  Frank,  "  I  know  that  1 
must  not  meddle  with  things  that  are  not 
mine.  I  did  not  meddle  with  any  of  the 
flowers,  or  cherries,  in  the  gardener's  nice 
garden  ;  and  I  will  not  meddle  with  any  of 
the  carpenter's  tools."  So  his  father  took 
him  into  the  workshop ;  and  he  saw  the 
bench  upon  which  the  carpenter  worked, 
which  was  called  a  workbench.  Upon  it  he 
saw  several  tools  —  a  plane,  and  a  chisel,  and 
a  saw,  and  a  gimlet,  and  a  hammer.  He  did 
not  meddle  with  any  of  them ;  and  after  his 
father  had  been  some  time  in  the  workshop, 
and  when  he  saw  that  Frank  did  not  touch 
any  of  these  things,  he  asked  the  carpenter 
to  let  him  touch  them,  and  to  show  him 
their  use. 

The  carpenter,  who  had  observed  that 
Frank  had  not  meddled  with  any  of  his  tools, 
readily  lent  them  to  him  to  look  at,  and,  when 
he  had  looked  at  them,  showed  him  their  use. 
He  planed  a  little  slip  of  wood  with  a  plane  ; 
and  he  bored  a  hole  through  it  with  a  gimlet ; 
and  he  sloped  off  the  end  of  it  with  his  chis- 
el ;  and  then  he  nailed  it  to  another  piece  of 
wood  with  nails,  which  he  struck  into  the 
wood  with  his  hammer. 

And  Frank  asked  if  he  might  take  the 
hammer  and  a  nail,  and  hammer  it  into  a  bit 
of  wood  himself. 


FRANK. 


31 


"  You  may  try,  if  the  carpenter  will  give 
you  leave,"  said  his  father. 

So  Frank  took  the  hammer,  and  tried  to 
hammer  a  nail  into  a  bit  of  wood.  He  hit 
his  fingers,  instead  of  the  nail,  two  or  three 
times ;  but  at  last  he  drove  it  into  the  wood  ; 
and  he  said,  "  I  thought  it  was  much  easier 
to  do  this,  when  I  saw  the  carpenter  hammer- 
ing." 

Frank  afterwards  tried  to  use  the  plane, 
and  the  saw,  which  he  thought  he  could 
manage  very  easily,  but  he  found  that  he 
could  not ;  and  he  asked  his  father  what  was 
the  reason  that  he  could  not  do  all  this,  as 
well  as  the  carpenter. 


32  EARLY    LESSONS. 

The  carpenter  smiled,  and  said,  "I  have 
been  learning  to  do  all  this,  master,  a  great 
long  while.  When  I  first  took  a  plane  in  my 
hand,  I  could  not  use  it  better  than  you  do 
now." 

"  Then  perhaps,  papa,  I  may  learn  to  in 
time.  But,  papa,"  said  Frank,  recollecting 
his  kite,  "  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  ask  for 
the  slip  of  wood  for  my  kite  ?  " 

His  father  did  so  ;  and  the  carpenter  found 
a  slip  that  was  just  fit  for  his  purpose,  and 
gave  it  to  him  ;  and  his  father  then  desired 
him  not  to  talk  any  more  ;  "  for,"  said  he, 
"  we  have  business  to  do  ;  and  you  must  not 
interrupt  us." 

Whilst  his  father  was  speaking  to  the  car- 
penter about  his  own  business,  Frank  went 
to  the  window,  to  look  at  it,  for  it  was  a  dif- 
ferent sort  of  window  from  those  which  he 
had  been  used  to  see  in  his  father's  house.  It 
opened  like  a  door  ;  and  the  panes  of  the 
glass  were  very  small,  and  had  flat  slips  of 
lead  all  round  them. 

Whilst  Frank  was  examining  this  window, 
he  heard  the  sound  of  a  horse  trotting  ;  and 
he  looked  out,  and  he  saw  a  horse  upon  the 
road  which  was  before  the  window. 

The  horse  had  a  saddle  and  bridle  on,  but 
nobody  was  riding  upon  it.  It  stopped,  and 
ate  some  grass  by  the  road-side,  ard  then 
went  down  a  lane. 

Soon   after  Frank  had  seen  the  horse  gc 


FRANK.  33 

by,  his  father,  who  had  finished  his  business 
with  the  carpenter,  called  to  Frank,  and  told 
him  that  he  was  going  home. 

Frank  thanked  the  carpenter  for  letting 
him  look  at  the  plane,  and  the  saw,  and  the 
chisel,  and  for  giving  him  a  slip  of  wood  for 
his  kite  ;  and  he  took  the  bit  of  wood  with 
him,  and  followed  his  father.  When  his 
father  and  he  had  walked  a  few  yards  from 
the  carpenter's  door,  a  man  passed  by  them, 
who  seemed  very  hot,  and  very  much  tired. 
He  looked  back  at  Frank's  father,  and  said, 
"Pray,  sir,  did  you  see  a  horse  go  by  this 
way,  a  little  while  ago  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  did  not,"  said  Frank's  father. 

"  But  I  did,  papa,"  said  Frank.  "  I  saw 
a  horse  going  by,  upon  this  road,  whilst  I 
was  standing,  just  now,  at  the  carpenter's 
window." 

"  Pray,  master,  what  color  was  the  horse 
you  saw  ?  "  said  the  man. 

"  Black,  sir,"  said  Frank. 

"  Had  he  a  saddle  and  a  bridle  on  ?  "  said 
the  man. 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  had,"   answered  Frank. 

"And  pray,  master,"  said  the  man,  "will 
you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  whether  he 
went  on  upon  this  road,  straight  before  us,  or 
whether  he  turned  down  this  lane  to  the 
right,  or  this  other  lane  to  the  left  hand  ?  " 

As  the  man  spoke,  he  pointed  to  the  lanes, 
and  Frank  answered,  "  The  horse  that  I  saw, 


34  EARLY    LESSONS. 

sir,  gallopped  down  this  lane  to  my  right- 
hand  side." 

"  Thank  you,  master,"  said  the  man.  "  I 
will  go  after  him ;  I  hope  the  people  at  the 
house,  yonder,  will  stop  him.  He  is  as  quiet 
and  good  a  horse  as  can  be,  only  that,  when- 
ever I  leave  him  by  the  road-side,  without  ty- 
ing him  fast  by  the  bridle,  he  is  apt  to  stray 
away ;  and  that  is  what  he  has  done  now." 

The  man,  after  saying  this,  went  down  the 
lane  to  his  right-hand  side  ;  and  Frank  walked 
on,  with  his  father. 

The  road  towards  home  was  up  a  steep 
hill,  and  Frank  began  to  be  tired  before  he 
had  got  half  way  up  the  hill. 

"  It  did  not  tire  me  so  much,  papa,  as  we 
came  down  the  hill ;  but  it  is  very  difficult 
to  get  up  it  again." 

"  I  do  not  hear  all  that  you  are  saying," 
said  his  father,  "  you  are  so  far  behind  me. 
Cannot  you  keep  up  with  me  ?  " 

"No,  papa,"  cried  Frank,  as  loud  as  he 
could,  "  because  I  am  tired.  My  knees  are 
very  much  tired,  coming  up  this  great  hill." 

His  father  stopped  and  looked  back,  and 
saw  that  Frank  was  trying  to  come  up  the 
hill  as  fast  as  he  could. 

At  this  time  Frank  heard  the  noise  of  a 
horse  behind  him  ;  and  he  looked,  and  saw 
the  man  whom  he  had  spoken  to  a  little 
while  before,  riding  upon  the  black  horse, 
which  he  had  seen  going  down  the  lane. 


FRANK.  35 

The  man  said  to  him,  "  Thank  you,  mas- 
ler,  for  telling  me  which  way  my  horse  went. 
You  see  I  have  got  him  again  ;  you  seem 
sadly  tired ;  I  will  carry  you  up  this  hill  upon 
my  horse,  if  you  have  a  mind." 

"  I  will  ask  my  father  if  he  likes  it,"  said 
Frank. 

His  father  said,  "  Yes,  if  you  please  ;  "  and 
the  man  took  Frank  up,  and  set  him  before 
him,  upon  the  horse,  and  put  his  arm  round 
Frank's  body,  to  hold  him  fast  upon  the 
horse.  Then  the  horse  walked  gently  up  the 
hill,  and  Frank's  father  walked  beside  him. 
And  when  they  came  to  the  top  of  the  steep 
hill,  his  father  took  Frank  down  from  the 
horse,  and  he  thanked  the  man  for  carrying 
him  ;  and  he  felt  rested,  and  able  to  walk  on 
merrily  with  his  father. 

And  as  they  walked  on,  he  said  to  his  fa- 
ther, "  I  am  glad  that  I  saw  the  horse,  and 
observed  which  way  it  went,  and  that  I  told 
the  man  which  road  it  went.  You  know, 
papa,  there  were  three  roads  ;  and  the  man 
could  not  know  which  way  the  horse  went, 
till  I  told  him.  If  I  had  not  told  him  the 
right  road,  he  would  have  gone  on  —  on^ — 
on,  a  great  way ;  and  he  would  have  tired 
himself ;  and  he  would  not  have  found  his 
horse.  It  would  have  been  very  foolish  and 
ill-natmed  of  me  to  have  done  that." 

"  Yes,  it  would,"  said  his  father ;  "  that 
would  have  been  telling  what  was  not  the 


36  EARLY    LESSENS. 

truth.  Now  you  have  seen  one  of  the  uses 
of  telling  the  truth." 

"  One  of  the  uses,  papa !  Are  there  more 
uses,  papa  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  great  many." 

"  Will  you  tell  them  all  to  me  ? " 

"  I  would  rather  that  you  should  find  them 
out  for  yourself,"  said  his  father  ;  "  you  will 
find  them  all  out  some  time  or  other." 

Then  Frank  began  to  talk  about  his  kite  ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  got  home,  his  father  showed 
him  how  to  make  it,  and  helped  him  to  do  it. 
And  when  it  was  made,  he  left  it  to  dry  ;  for 
the  paste,  which  pasted  the  paper  together, 
was  wet ;  and  his  father  told  him  that  it  must 
dry  before  the  paste  would  hold  the  paper  to- 
gether, and  before  the  kite  was  fit  to  be  used. 

Frank  left  it  to  dry ;  and  when  it  was 
quite  dry,  his  father  told  him  that  he  might 
go  out  on  the  grass,  in  a  field  near  the  house, 
and  fly  it. 

Frank  did  so ;  and  it  went  up  very  high  in 
the  air ;  and  it  staid  up,  now  higher,  now 
lower,  for  some  time  ;  and  the  sun  shone 
upon  it,  so  that  it  was  plainly  seen ;  and  the 
wind  swelled  out  the  sides  of  it,  as  Frank 
pulled  it  by  the  middle  with  the  string. 

His  mother  came  to  the  window,  to  look 
at  the  kite ;  and  Frank  was  glad  that  she  saw 
it,  too  ;  and,  when  it  came  down,  it  fell  upon 
the  smooth  grass,  and  it  was  not  torn.  Frank 
carried  it  into  the  house,  and  put  it  by  care- 


FRANK. 


37 


fully,  that  it  might  not  be  spoiled,  and  that 
he  might  have  the  pleasure  of  flying  it  an- 
other day ;  and  he  said,  "  I  wish  I  could  find 
out  why  the  kite  goes  up  !  " 


It  was  a  rainy  day,  and  Frank  could  not 
go  out  to  fly  his  kite  ;  he  amused  himself 
with  playing  with  his  horse-chestnuts.  He 
was  playing  in  a  room  by  himself;  and,  by 
accident,  he  threw  one  of  his  horse-chestnuts 
against  the  window,  and  it  broke  a  pane  of 
glass.  Immediately  he  ran  down  stairs,  into 
the  room  where  he  knew  his  mother  was,  and 
went  up  to  her.  She  was  speaking  to  some- 


38  EARLY    LESSONS. 

body,  and  did  not  see  him ;  and  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  arm,  to  make  her  attend  to 
him ;  and  the  moment  she  turned  her  face  to 
him,  he  said,  "  Mamma,  I  have  broken  the 
window  in  your  bed-chamber,  by  throwing  a 
horse-chestnut  against  it." 

His  mother  said,  "  I  am  very  sorry  you 
have  broken  my  window  ;  but  I  am  glad,  my 
dear  Frank,  that  you  came  directly  to  tell  me 
of  it."  And  his  mother  kissed  him. 

"  But  how  shall  I  prevent  you,"  said  she, 
"  from  breaking  my  window  again,  with  your 
horse-chestnut  ? " 

"  I  will  take  care  not  to  break  it  again, 
mamma,"  said  Frank.  "But  you  said  that 
you  would  take  care  before  you  broke  it  to- 
day ;  and  yet  you  see  that  you  have  broken 
it.  After  you  burnt  your  finger,  by  letting 
the  hot  sealing-wax  drop  upon  it,  you  took  a 
great  deal  of  care  not  to  do  the  same  thing 
again  ;  did  not  you  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  squeezing 
the  finger  which  he  burnt,  just  as  he  did  at 
the  time  he  burnt  it.  "  O,  yes,  mamma,  I 
took  a  great  deal  of  care  not  to  do  the  same 
thing  again,  for  fear  of  burning  myself  again." 

"  And  if  you  had  felt  some  pain  when  you 
broke  the  window,  just  now,  do  you  not  think 
that  you  should  take  care  not  to  do  so  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma." 

'*  Where  is  the  horse-chestnut  with  which 
you  broke  the  window  ?  " 


FRANK.  39 

"It  is  lying  upon  the  floor  in  your  room." 

"  Go  and  fetch  it." 

Frank  went  for  it,  and  brought  it  to  his 
mother  ;  and  she  took  it  in  her  hand,  and 
said,  "  You  would  be  sorry  to  see  this  horse- 
chestnut  thrown  away  ;  would  not  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  said  Frank ;  "  for  I  like 
to  roll  it  about,  and  to  play  with  it ;  and  it  is 
the  only  one  of  my  horse-chestnuts  that  I 
have  left." 

"  But,"  said  his  mother,  "  I  am  afraid  that 
you  will  break  another  of  my  windows  with 
it ;  and  if  you  would  throw  it  away,  you 
could  not  break  them  with  it  ;  and  the  pain 
you  would  feel,  at  your  horse-chestnut's  being 
thrown  away,  would  make  you  remember,  I 
think,  not  to  throw  hard  things  against  glass 
windows  again." 

Frank  stood  for  a  little  while,  looking  at 
his  horse-chestnut ;  and  then  he  said,  "  Well, 
mamma,  I  will  throw  it  away  ;  "  and  he  threw 
it  out  of  the  window. 

Some  days  afterwards,  his  mother  called 
Frank  to  the  table  where  she  was  at  work  ; 
and  she  took  out  of  her  work-basket  two 
leather  balls,  and  gave  them  to  Frank  ;  one 
of  them  was  very  hard,  and  the  other  was 
very  soft. 

His  mother  desired  that  he  would  play  with 
the  soft  ball  when  he  was  in  the  house,  and 
with  the  hard  ball  when  he  was  out  of  doors. 
She  said  that  she  had  made  the  soft  ball  on 


4U  EARLY    LESSONS. 

purpose  for  him,  that  he  might  have  one  to 
play  with  when  it  was  rainy  weather,  and 
when  he  could  not  go  out. 

This  soft  ball  was  stuffed  with  horse-hair ; 
it  was  not  stuffed  tight ;  Frank  could  squeeze 
it  together  with  his  fingers;  and  his  mother 
threw  it  against  the  window,  and  it  bounded 
back  without  breaking  the  glass. 

Frank  thanked  his  mother ;  and  he  liked 
the  two  balls  very  much.  And  his  mother 
said  to  him,  "You  have  not  broken  any  more 
windows,  Frank,  since  you  punished  yourself 
by  throwing  away  your  horse-chestnut ;  and 
now  I  am  glad  to  reward  you  for  your  truth 
and  good  sense." 


About  a  week  after  Frank's  mother  had 
given  him  the  two  balls,  she  came  into  the 
room  where  he  had  been  playing  at  ball. 
Nobody  had  been  in  the  room  with  him  till 
his  mother  came  in ;  she  had  a  large  nose- 
gay of  pinks  and  carnations  in  her  hand  — — 
"  Look  here,  Frank,"  said  she  ;  "  the  garden- 
er, who  lives  at  the  garden  with  the  green 
gate,  has  brought  these  pinks  and  carnations, 
and  has  given  them  to  me ;  he  says  they 
are  some  of  those  which  you  helped  him  to 
tie  up." 

"  O,  they  are  very  prstty  !  they  are  very 
sweet ! "  said  Frank,  smelling  to  them,  as  his 
mother  held  them  towards  him.  "  May  I 


FRANK.  41 

help  you,  mamma,  to  put  them  into  the 
flower-pot  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  bring  the  flower-pot  to 
me,  which  stands  on  that  little  table,  and  we 
will  put  these  flowers  into  it." 

She  sat  down ;  and  Frank  ran  to  the  little 
table  for  the  flower-pot. 

"  There  is  no  water  in  it,  mamma,"  said 
Frank. 

"  But  we  can  put  some  in,"  said  his  moth- 
er   "  Well !  why  do  not  you  bring  it 

to  me  ?  " 

"  Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  I  am  afraid  to 
take  it  up,  for  here  is  a  great  large  crack  all 
down  the  flower-pot ;  and  when  I  touched  it, 
just  now,  it  shook.  It  seems  quite  loose  ; 
and  I  think  it  will  fall  to  pieces,  if  I  take 
it  in  my  hands." 

His  mother  then  came  to  the  little  table,  by 
which  Frank  was  standing  ;  and  she  looked 
at  the  flower-pot,  and  saw  that  it  was  cracked 
through,  from  top  to  bottom  ;  and  the  mo- 
ment she  took  it  in  her  hands,  it  fell  to  pieces. 

"  This  flower-pot  was  not  broken  yester- 
day evening,"  said  his  mother  ;  "I  remember 
seeing  it  without  any  crack  in  it  yesterday 
evening,  when  I  took  the  dead  mignionette 
out  of  it." 

"  So  do  I,  mamma ;  I  was  by  at  that  time." 

"  I  do  not  ask  you,  my  dear  Frank,"  said 
his  mother,  "  whether  you  broke  this  flower- 
pot ;  I  think,  if  you  had  broken  it,  you  would 
4 


42  JKARLY    LESSONS. 

come  and  tell  me,  as  you  did  when  you  broke 
the  pane  of  glass  in  this  window." 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  eagerly  look- 
ing up  in  his  mother's  face,  "  I  did  not  break 
this  flower-pot ;  I  have  not  meddled  with  it ; 
I  have  been  playing  with  my  soft  ball,  as 
you  desired  ;  look,  here  is  my  soft  ball,"  said 
he  ;  "this  is  what  I  have  been  playing  with, 
all  this  morning." 

"  My  dear  Frank,"  said  his  mother,  "  I  be- 
lieve you.  You  told  me  truth  before,  about 
the  window  that  you  broke." 

Frank's  father  came  into  the  room  at  this 
moment ;  and  Frank  asked  him  if  he  had 
broken  or  cracked  the  flower-pot. 

He  said,  "  No,  I  have  not ;  I  know  nothing 
about  it." 

Frank's  mother  rang  the  bell,  and,  when 
the  maid-servant  came  up,  asked  the  maid 
whether  she  had  cracked  the  flower-pot. 

The  maid  answered,  "No,  madam,  I  did 
not."  And  after  she  had  given  this  answer, 
the  maid  left  the  room. 

"Now,  my  dear  Frank,"  said  his  father, 
"  you  see  what  an  advantage  it  is  to  speak 
the  truth ;  because  I  know  that  you  told  the 
truth  about  the  window  which  you  broke, 
and  about  the  horse  which  you  said  you  had 
seen  going  down  the  lane,  I  cannot  help  be- 
lieving that  you  speak  the  truth  now.  I  be- 
lieve that  you  did  not  break  this  flower-pot, 
because  you  say  that  you  did  not." 


FRANK.  43 

"  But,  papa,"  said  Frank,  "  I  wish  that  the 
person  who  did  crack  it  would  tell  you.  or 
mamma,  that  they  cracked  it,  because  then 
you  would  be  quite  sure  that  I  did  not  do  it. 
Do  you  think  the  maid  did  it?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not ;  because  she  says  she  did 
not ;  and  I  have  always  found  that  she  tells 
the  truth." 

Frank's  mother,  whilst  he  was  speaking, 
was  looking  at  the  broken  pieces  of  the 
flower-pot ;  and  she  observed  that,  near  the 
place  where  it  was  cracked,  one  side  of  the 
flower-pot  was  blackened ;  and  she  rubbed 
the  black,  and  it  came  off  easily ;  and  she 
said,  "  This  looks  as  if  it  had  been  smoked." 

"  But  smoke  comes  from  the  fire,"  said 
Frank ;  "  and  there  has  been  no  fire  in  this 
room,  mamma." 

"  And  did  you  never  see  smoke  come  from 
any  thing  but  from  the  fire  in  the  fire- 
place? " 

"  Not  that  I  remember,  mamma,"  said 

Frank "  O  yes,  I  have  seen  smoke,  a 

great  deal  of  smoke,  come  from  the  spout 
of  the  tea-kettle,  and  from  the  top  of  the 
urn." 

"  That  is  not  smoke,"  said  his  father; 
"  but  I  will  tell  you  more  about  that  another 
time.  Cannot  you  recollect  seeing  smoke 
come  from " 

"  From  what,  papa  ?  " 

"  Last  night  you  saw  smoke  coming 
from " 


44  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"O,  now  I  recollect — from  the  candle, 
papa,"  said  Frank. 

"  And  now  I  recollect,"  said  Frank's  fathei, 
"  that,  late  last  night,  I  was  sealing  a  letter 
at  this  little  table  ;  and  I  remember  that  I  left 
the  green  wax  candle  burning  very  near  this 
flower-pot,  whilst  I  went  out  of  the  room,  to 
give  the  letter,  which  I  had  been  sealing,  to 
a  man  who  was  waiting  for  it.  When  I 
came  back  again,  I  put  out  the  candle ;  I  did 
not  observe  that  the  flower- pot  was  smoked, 
or  cracked  ;  but  I  now  think  it  is  very  prob- 
able that  the  heat  of  that  candle  cracked 
it." 

"Let  us  look  whether  there  is  any  melted 
green  wax,"  said  Frank,  "  upon  the  pieces  of 
the  flower-pot ;  because  wax,  when  it  was 
melting,  might  drop  upon  the  flower-pot,  as 
it  did  upon  my  fingers  once." 

Frank  examined  all  the  pieces  of  the 
flower-pot,  and  on  one  bit,  near  the  place 
where  it  was  blackened  with  smoke,  he 
found  a  round  spot  of  green  wax. 

"  Then,"  said  his  father,  "  I  am  now  pret- 
ty sure  that  it  was  I  who  was  the  cause  of 
cracking  the  flower-pot,  by  putting  the  light- 
ed candle  too  near  it." 

"I  am  very  glad  we  have  found  out 
the  truth,"  said  Frank ;  "  and  now,  papa," 
added  he,  "  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me 
about  the  smoke — no,  not  the  smoke,  but 
the  thing  that  looks  so  like  smoke,  which 


FRANK.  45 

comes  out  of  the  top  of  the  urn,  and  out  of 
the  spout  of  the  tea-kettle  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  time  to  explain  it  to  you  now, 
Frank,"  said  his  father ;  "  but  if  I  am  noi 
busy  at  tea-time,  this  evening,  you  may  put 
me  in  mind  of  it  again." And  at  tea- 
time  his  father  showed  him  the  difference  be- 
tween smoke  and  steam. 


"  The  bread,  mamma,  is  very  good  this 
morning,"  said  Frank,  one  morning  at  break- 
fast. 

"  It  is  new  bread." 

"  New  bread,  mamma !  What  is  meant  by 
new  bread  ? " 

"  Bread  that  has  been  newly  made. ' 

"  Bread  is  made  of  flour,  I  remember  you 

told  me,  mamma,  and  flour  comes  from O 

mamma,  do  not  you  recollect  telling  me  that, 
some  time  or  other,  you  would  show  me  corn 
growing  in  the  fields  ?  When  we  walk  out  this 
morning,  I  will  put  you  in  mind  of  it  again." 

And  when  he  walked  out  with  his  mother 
in  the  fields,  Frank  put  her  in  mind  of  it 
again ;  and  she  said,  "  I  see  some  men  at 
work,  yonder,  in  a  cornfield ;  let  us  go  and 
see  what  they  are  doing."  So  they  went  to 
the  field ;  and  Frank's  mother  showed  him 
some  corn  growing;  and  she  showed  him 
some  that  had  been  cut  down  ;  she  showed 
him  some  that  was  ripe,  and  some  that  was 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


riot  ripe.  And  then  they  walked  farther  on, 
to  the  part  of  the  field  where  the  men  were 
at  work. 

Frank  saw  that  they  had  a  kind  of  sharp, 
bright  hooks  in  their  hands,  with  which  they 
were  cutting  down  the  corn.  His  mother 
told  him  that  these  hooks  are  called  reaping- 
hooks,  or  sickles. 

He  saw  that,  after  the  corn  was  cut  down, 
the  men  tied  up  bundles  of  it,  which  they  set 
upright  in  the  field,  at  regular  distances  from 
each  other.  His  mother  told  him  that  each 
of  these  bundles  was  called  a  sheaf  of  corn  ; 
and  she  pulled  out  a  single  stalk,  and  put  it 
into  his  hand,  and  said,  "  This  is  called  an 


FRANK.  47 

ear  of  com  ;  what  grows  upon  a  single  stalk 
is  called  an  ear  of  corn." 

Whilst  Frank  was  looking  at  the  men  tying 
up  the  sheaves  of  corn,  a  person  came  up  to 
him,  and  said,  "  You  are  welcome,  here,  mas- 
ter   You  are  he  that  was  so  good  as  to 

tell  me  which  road  my  horse  strayed  some 
time  ago." 

Frank  looked  in  the  face  of  the  person 
who  was  speaking  to  him ;  and  he  recollected 
this  to  be  the  man  who  carried  him  up  the 
steep  hill,  upon  his  horse. 

This  man  was  a  farmer ;  and  he  was  now 
overlooking  some  laborers,  who  were  reaping 
his  corn.  He  pointed  to  a  small  house, 
amongst  some  trees  at  a  little  distance  ;  and 
he  told  Frank's  mother  that  he  lived  in  that 
house  ;  and  that,  if  she  would  like  to  walk 
there,  he  could  show  Frank  how  the  men 
were  threshing  some  co^rn  in  his  barn. 

Frank's  mother  thanked  the  farmer ;  and 
they  walked  to  his  house.  It  was  a  thatched, 
whitewashed  house,  and  it  looked  very  neat. 
There  were  some  scarlet  flowers  in  the  kitch- 
en garden,  which  looked  very  pretty.  As 
they  passed  through  the  garden,  Frank  asked 
the  name  of  these  flowers ;  and  his  mother 
told  him  that  these  were  called  scarlet  run- 
ners ;  and  she  said  to  him,  "  On  this  kind  of 
plant  grow  kidney  beans,  of  which  you  are 
so  fond,  Frank." 

Frank  saw  cabbages,  and  cauliflowers,  and 


18 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


lettuce,  in  this  garden  ;  but  his  mother  said. 
"  Come,  Frank,  you  must  not  keep  us  wait- 
ing ;  "  and  he  followed  his  mother  through  a 
yard,  where  there  were  a  great  number  of 
ducks,  and  fowl,  and  geese,  and  turkeys  ;  and 
they  made  a  great  noise  ;  and  several  of  them 
clapped  their  white  wings  ;  and  the  geese  and 
turkeys  stretched  out  their  long  necks. 

"  You  need  not  squeeze  my  hand  so  tight, 
Frank,"  said  his  mother ;  "  you  need  not 
squeeze  yourself  up  so  close  to  me  ;  these 
geese  and  turkeys  will  not  do  you  any  harm, 
though  they  make  so  much  noise." 

So  Frank  walked  on  stoutly ;  and  he 
found  that  the  geese  and  turkeys  did  not  hurt 


FKANK. 


49 


him  ;  and  when  he  had  crossed  this  yard,  the 
farmer  led  them  through  a  gate,  into  a  large 
yard,  where  there  were  ricks  of  hay  ;  and 
there  were  several  cows  in  this  yard  ;  and,  as 
he  passed  by  them,  Frank  observed  that  their 
breath  smelt  very  sweet. 

"  Come  this  way,  into  the  barn,"  said  the 
farmer  ;  "  here  are  the  men  who  are  thresn- 
ing." 

The  barn,  on  the  inside,  looked  like  a  large 
room,  with  rough  walls,  and  no  ceiling  ;  but 
it  had  a  floor.  Two  men  were  at  work  in 
this  barn ;  they  were  beating  some  corn,  that 
*ay  upon  the  floor,  with  long  sticks  ;  they 
made  a  great  noise,  as  they  struck  the  floor 
with  their  sticks  ;  so  that  Frank  could  neither 
5 


50  EARLY    LESSONS. 

make  his  mother  hear  what  he  said,  nor  could 
he  hear  her  voice. 

The  sticks  seemed  to  be  half  broken  in 
two,  in  the  middle  ;  and  they  seemed  to  swing 
with  great  violence,  as  the  men  struck  with 
them  ;  and  Frank  was  afraid  that  the  sticks 
should  reach  to  where  he  stood,  and  would 
hit  him  ;  but,  after  he  had  been  in  the  barn 
for  a  little  while,  he  became  less  afraid  ;  he 
observed  that  the  sticks  did  not  swing  within 
reach  of  him. 

The  farmer  asked  the  men  to  stop  working  ; 
and  they  stopped  ;  and  the  farmer  took  one 
of  the  things,  with  which  they  had  been 
working,  out  of  their  hands,  and  showed  it 
to  Frank. 

His  mother  told  him  that  it  was  called  a 
flail.  It  was  made  of  two  sticks,  tied  to- 
gether with  a  bit  of  leather. 

The  farmer  showed  Frank  the  corn,  which 
lay  upon  the  floor  ;  and  his  mother  showed 
him,  that  the  loose,  outside  cover  of  the  corn, 
was  beaten  off  by  the  strokes  of  the  flail. 

The  farmer  said,  "  You  may  take  some  of 
the  corn,  master,  in  your  hand  ;  and  some  of 
the  chaff;  and  then  you  will  see  the  difference." 

The  chaff  was  the  outside  covering. 

"  And  how  is  this  corn  made  into  bread  ?  " 
said  Frank. 

"  O.  master,"  said  the  farmer,  "  a  great 
deal  must  be  done  to  it,  before  it  is  made  into 
bread.  It  must  go  to  the  mill,  to  be  ground." 


FRANK.  51 

"  I  should  like  to  see  the  mill,  mamma," 
said  Frank ;  "  but  I  do  not  know  what  he 
means  by  to  be  ground." 

"  That  you  will  see,  when  you  go  to  the 
mill." 

"  Shall  we  go  to  the  mill  now,  mamma  ?  " 
said  Frank. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  his  mother;  "  I  would 
rather  that  you  should  wait  till  some  day 
when  your  father  can  have  time  to  go  with 
you  to  the  mill  ;  because  he  can  explain  it  to 
you  much  better  than  I  could." 

Then  Frank  and  his  mother  thanked  the 
farmer  for  what  he  had  shown  them  ;  and 
they  had  a  pleasant  walk  home. 


"  Ah,  spare  yon  emmet,  rich  in  hoarded  grain : 
He  lives  with  pleasure,  and  he  dies  with  pain."  * 

Frank  was  always  careful  not  to  hurt  in- 
sects, nor  any  sort  of  animals.  He  liked  to 
observe  spiders  in  their  webs,  and  ants  carry- 
ing their  white  loads,  but  he  never  teased 
them ;  even  those  animals  which  he  did  not 
thmk  were  pretty,  he  took  care  not  to  hurt. 

One  evening,  when  he  was  walking  with 
his  father  and  mother  upon  a  gravel -walk 
near  the  house,  he  saw  several  black  snails 
He  did  not  think  them  pretty  animals,  but, 
whenever  he  came  near  one,  he  took  care  not 
to  tread  upon  it.  He  stooped  down  to  look 

*  Sir  William  Jones. 


EARLY    LESSONS. 

at  one  of  these  black  snails,  which  was 
drawing  in  its  black  horns. 

"  I  believe,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  that  it 
drew  in  those  horns,  because  he  is  afraid  I 
am  going  to  hurt  him." 

"  Very  likely." 

"  But  that  is  foolish  of  the  snail,  mamma, 
because  you  know  I  am  not  going  to  hurt  it." 

"  I  know  that,  Frank;  but*how  should  the 
snail  know  it  ?  " 

"  He  lies  quite  still ;  he  will  not  put  out 
his  black  horns  again ;  I  will  go  away  and 
leave  him,  that  I  may  not  frighten  him  any 
more.  I  should  riot  like  to  be  frightened  my- 
self, if  I  was  a  snail,"  said  Frank.  So  he 
ran  on,  before  his  father  and  mother,  and  left 
the  snail ;  and  he  saw  some  pretty  brown  and 
green  moss  upon  a  bank  ;  and  he  asked  his 
mother  if  he  might  gather  some  of  it. 

She  said,  "  Yes  ;  "  and  he  climbed  up  the 
bank  ;  and  he  gathered  some  of  the  moss  ; 
and  in  the  moss,  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  he 
found  a  pretty  shell.  It  was  striped  with 
purple,  and  green,  and  straw  color,  and  white  ; 
and  it  was  smooth,  and  very  shining.  He 
got  down  from  the  bank,  as  fast  as  he  coulti  ; 
and  he  ran,  and  asked  his  mother  if  he  might 
keep  this  pretty  shell,  and  carry  it  into  the 
house,  when  he  came  home  from  walking. 

His  mother  looked  at  the  shell,  as  Frank 
held  it  upon  the  palm  of  his  hand  ;  and  she 
told  him  that  he  might  have  it  ;  and  that  he 


FRANK.  53 

might  carry  it  into  the  house  with  him,  when 
he  went  home ;  and  she  told  him  that  it  was 
a  snail-shell. 

"  A  snail-shell,  mamma  !  "  said  Frank.  "I 
never  saw  such  a  pretty  snail-shell  before  ;  I 
am  glad  I  have  found  it ;  and  I  will  take  care 
not  to  break  it." 

Frank  held  it  carefully  in  his  hand,  during 
the  rest  of  his  walk  ;  and  he  often  looked  at 
it,  to  see  that  it  was  safe  ;  and  just  as  he  came 
near  the  hall  door,  he  opened  his  hand,  and 
began  to  count  the.  number  of  colored  rings 
upon  his  snail-shell.  "  One,  two,  three,  four, 
five  rings,  mamma,"  said  Frank  ;  "  and  the 
rings  seem  to  wind  round  and  round  the  shell. 
They  are  larger  at  the  bottom  ;  and  they 
grow  less  and  less,  as  they  wind  up  to 
the  top." 

"  That  is  called  a  spiral  line,"  said  his  fa- 
ther, pointing  to  the  line  which,  as  Frank 
said,  seemed  to  wind  round  and  round  the 
shell. 

As  Frank  was  looking  with  attention  at 
the  shell,  he  felt  something  cold,  clammy,  and 
disagreeable  touching  his  hand,  at  the  bottom 
of  the  shell ;  and  with  his  other  hand  he  wa.. 
going  to  lift  up  the  shell,  to  see  what  this 
was  ;  but  when  he  touched  it,  he  found  that 
it  stuck  to  his  hand  ;  and,  a  few  instants  af- 
terwards, he  saw  the  snail-shell  seemed  to 
rise  up  ;  and  he  perceived  the  horns  and  head 
of  a  snail,  peeping  out  from  beneath  the  shell. 


54  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  O,  mamma !  there  is  a  living  snail  in  this 
shell.  Look  at  it,"  said  Frank.  "  Look  !  it 
has  crawled  out  a  great  deal  farther  now  ;  and 
it  carries  its  shell  upon  its  back.  It  is  very 
curious  ;  but  I  wish  it  was  crawling  any- 
where but  upon  my  hand  ;  for  I  do  not  like 
the  cold,  sticky  feeling  of  it." 

Frank  was  then  going  to  shake  the  snail 
from  his  hand  ;  but  he  recollected  that,  if  he 
let  it  fall  suddenly  upon  the  stone  steps,  he 
might  hurt  the  animal,  or  break  the  pretty 
shell  ;  therefore  he  did  not  shake  it  off;  but 
he  put  his  hand  down,  gently,  to  the  stone 
step  ;  and  the  snail  crawled  off  his  hand,  upon 
the  stone. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  I  think  the  snail 
might  do  without  that  pretty  shell ;  you  gave 
the  shell  to  me,  mamma.  May  I  pull  it  off 
the  snail's  back  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  mother,  "  I  did  not 
know  that  there  was  a  snail  in  that  shell, 
when  I  said  that  you  might  have  it.  I  would 
not  have  given  it  to  you,  if  I  had  known  that 
there  was  a  snail  withinside  of  it.  You  can- 
not pull  the  shell  from  the  snail's  back,  with- 
out hurting  the  animal,  or  breaking  the  shell." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  hurt  the  animal,"  said 
Frank  ;  "  and  I  am  sure  I  do  not  wish  to 
break  the  pretty  shell;- so  I  will  not  pull  it. 
But,  mamma,  I  think  I  had  better  take  the 
snail  and  snail-shell,  both  together,  into  the 


FRANK.  05 

house,  and  keep  them  in  my  little  red  box, 
mamma  ;  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think,  my  dear,  that  the  snail  would 
not  be  so  happy  in  your  little  red  box  as  it 
would  be  in  the  open  air,  upon  the  grass,  or 
upon  the  leaves  which  it  usually  eats." 

"  But,  mamma,  I  would  give  it  leaves  to 
eat  in  the  little  red  box." 

"  But,  Frank,  you  do  not  know  what  leaves 
it  likes  best  to  eat ;  and  if  you  do  not  shut  it 
up  in  your  red  box,  it  will  find  the  leaves  for 
itself  which  it  loves  best." 

"  Then,  if  you  do  not  think  it  would  be 
happy  in  my  red  box,  mamma,  I  will  not  shut 
it  up  in  it ;  I  will  leave  it  to  go  where  it 
pleases,  with  its  own  pretty  shell  upon  its 
back.  That  is  what  I  should  like,  if  I  was 
a  snail,  I  believe." 

He  then  took  the  snail,  and  put  it  upon  the 
grass,  and  left  it ;  and  he  went  into  the  house 
with  his  mother,  and  she  called  him  into  her 
room  ;  and  she  took  out  of  her  bureau  some- 
thing which  she  held  to  Frank's  ear,  and  he 
heard  a  noise  like  the  sound  of  water  boiling  ; 
then  she  put  into  Frank's  hand  what  she  had 
held  to  his  ear  ;  and  he  saw  that  it  was  a 
large  shell,  speckled  red,  and  brown,  and 
white  ;  it  was  so  large,  that  his  little  fingers 
could  hardly  grasp  it. 

"  Do  you  like  it  as  well  as  you  did  the 
snail-shell  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,  a  great  deal  better,  mamma." 


56  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  Then  I  give  it  to  you,  my  dear,"  said  his 
mother. 

"  Keep  it,"  said  his  father  ;  "  and,  even  if 
you  keep  it  till  you  are  as  old  as  I  am,  you 
will  feel  pleasure  when  you  look  at  it ;  for 
you  will  recollect  that  your  mother  was 
pleased  with  you  when  she  gave  it  to  you, 
because  you  had  been  good-natured  to  a  poor 
little  snail." 


PRANK. 

PART   II. 


"  WHAT  was  it,  mamma,"  said  Frank, 
"  that  papa  was  saying  to  you,  just  after  you 
were  looking  at  the  snail  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  recollect,  my  dear." 

"  I  wish  you  could  be  so  good  as  to  try 
to  recollect,  mamma,  because  it  sounded 
very  pretty;  and  I  should  like  lo  hear  it 
again.  It  seemed  like  something  out  of  a 
book  ;  it  was  something  about  horned  snails, 
and  varnished  shells,  and  sliding " 

"  Do  you  mean, 

'  Slide  here,  ye  horned  snails  with  varnished  shells  '  1 " 

"  O,  yes,  mamma !  "  cried  Frank,  "  that  is 
what  I  mean ;  but  papa  said  a  great  deal  more 
of  it.  Will  you  say  it  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  repeat  the  lines,  that  you  may  hear 
the  agreeable  sound,  but  I  do  not  think  that 
you  can  understand  the  sense  of  them  yet," 
said  his  mother ;  and  she  repeated  to  him  the 
following  lines  : — 

"  '  Stay  thy  soft,  murmuring  waters,  gentle  rill  5 

Hush,  whispering  winds ;  ye  rustling  leaves,  be  still 


58  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Rest,  silver  butterflies,  your  quivering  wings  ; 
Alight,  ye  beetles,  from  your  airy  rings ; 
Ye  painted  moths,  your  gold-eyed  plumage  furl, 
Bow  your  wide  horns,  your  spiral  trunks  uncurl ; 
Glitter,  ye  glowworms,  on  your  mossy  beds  ; 
Descend,  ye  spiders,  on  your  lengthened  threads  ; 
Slide  here,  ye  horned  snails  with  varnished  shells  ; 
Ye  bee-nymphs,  listen  in  your  waxen  cells.' " 

"  I  do  not  understand  the  last  line,  mam- 
ma, at  all ;  but  I  understand  about  the  spiders 
coming  down  on  their  long  threads ;  I  have 
often  looked  at  spiders  doing  that.  But, 
mamma,  I  never  saw  any  moths  that  had 
trunks;  I  do  not  think  that  a  moth  could 
carry  a  trunk." 

"  What  do  you  think  is  meant  by  a  trunk, 
my  dear  ? " 

"  A  sort  of  box." 

"  That  is  one  meaning  of  the  word  trunk. 
Do  you  know  any  other  meaning  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  a  trunk  of  a  tree." 

"  And  did  you  never  see  the  picture  of  the 
trunk  of  an  elephant  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  mamma,  I  remember  seeing 
that;  and  I  remember  you  read  to  me  an 
account  of  the  elephant ;  and  you  told  me  he 
could  curl  up  that  trunk  of  his.  But,  mam- 
ma, such  moths  as  I  have  seen  are  little  fly- 
ing animals,  about  as  large  as  a  butterfly  ; 
they  could  not  have  such  trunks  as  elephants 
have." 

"  No,  they  have  not ;  they  have  not  such 
large  trunks." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  sort  of  trunks 
they  have  ? " 


FRANK.  59 

"  I  will  show  you,  the  first  time  we  see  a 
moth." 

"  Thank  you,  mamma ;  and  I  wish  you 
3otild  show  me  a  glowworm.  I  have  seen  a 
beetle;  but,  mamma,  will  you  say  that  part 
about  the  beetle  again  ?  " 

"  '  Alight,  ye  beetles,  from  your  airy  rings.' " 

11  What  does  that  mean,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Beetles  sometimes  fly  round  and  round 
in  the  air,  so  as  to  make  the  shape  of  circles 
or  rings  in  the  air;  and  alight,  here,  means, 
come  down  from  —  alight  or  settle  upon  the 
ground." 

"  And  silver  butterflies,  mamma,  does  not 
mean,  made  of  silver,  but  that  they  look 
shining,  like  silver  ;  does  not  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear." 

"  But  I  wish  very  much,  mamma,  to  see 
the  glowworms  that  lie  on  the  mossy  beds." 

"  I  will  try  if  I  can  find  a  glowworm,  and 
show  it  to  you  this  evening,"  said  his  mother. 

In  the  evening,  when  it  was  dusk,  Frank's 
mother  called  him,  and  bid  him  follow  her; 
and  she  went  down  a  lane  that  was  near  her 
house ;  and  Frank  followed  her.  She  looked 
from  side  to  side,  on  the  banks,  and  imdei 
the  hedges,  as  she  walked  along. 

"  Are  you  looking  for  a  glowworm,  mam- 
ma ?  "  said  Frank.  "  It  is  so  dark,  now,  that 
I  am  afraid  we  shall  not  see  it,  unless  it  is  a 
great  deal  larger  than  a  common  worm,  or 


60  EARLY    LESSONS. 

unless  we  had  a  lantern.  May  I  go  back  for 
the  little  lantern  that  is  in  the  hall  ?  There  is 
a  candle  ready  lighted  in  it,  mamma.  May  I 
go  back  for  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear ;  we  shall  not  want  a  lantern, 
nor  a  candle.  We  shall  be  more  likely  to 
find  a  glowworm  in  the  dark  than  if  we  had 
a  candle." 

Frank  was  surprised  at  hearing  his  mother 
say  this.  "  I  can  always  find  things  better  in 
the  light  than  in  the  dark,"  said  he.  But, 
just  as  he  finished  speaking,  he  saw  a  light 
upon  the  bank,  near  the  place  where  his  moth' 
er  was  standing  ;  and  she  called  to  him,  and 
said,  "  Here  is  a  glowworm,  Frank  ;  como 
nearer  to  me,  and  you  will  see  it  better." 

Frank  kneeled  down  upon  the  bank,  be- 
side his  mother ;  and  saw  that  the  light  seem- 
ed to  come  from  the  tail  of  a  little  brown 
caterpillar. 

The  caterpillar  crawled  on,  upon  the  bank  ; 
and  the  light  moved  on  whenever  the  cater- 
pillar moved,  and  stood  still  whenever  it 
stood  still. 

Frank's  mother,  whilst  the  glowworm  was 
standing  still,  put  her  hand  down  upon  the 
bank,  close  beside  it ;  and,  by  and  by,  the 
glowworm  began  to  move  again,  and  it 
crawled  upon  her  hand. 

"  O  mamma!  take  care,"  cried  Frank.  "  It 
will  burn  you." 

"  No,  my  dear,  it  will  not  burn  me  ;  it  will 


FRANK.  61 

not  hurt  me,"  said  his  mother ;  and  she  held 
her  hand  towards  Frank  ;  and  he  saw  the 
glowworm  upon  it. 

"  Shall  I  put  it  in  your  hand  ?  "  said  his 
mother.  Frank  drew  back,  as  if  he  was  still 
a  little  afraid  that  it  should  burn  him. 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  mother,  "  it  will  not 
hurt  you.  You  know  that  I  would  not  tell 
you  that  it  would  not  hurt  you  if  it  would. 
You  know  that  I  told  you  the  hot,  melting 
sealing-wax  would  scald  you,  if  you  let  it 
drop  upon  your  fingers ;  and  it  did.  But  I 
tell  you  that  the  light,  which  you  see  about 
this  animal,  will  not  .burn  you,  as  the  flame 
of  a  candle  or  as  the  fire  would." 

"  Then,  here  is  my  hand,  mamma.  Put 
the  glowworm  upon  it ;  and  I  will  not  shrink 
back  again,"  said  Frank. 

He  found  that  the  light  from  the  glow- 
worm did  not  hurt  him,  in  the  least ;  and  he 
asked  his  mother  how  it  came  that  this, 
which  looked  so  much  like  the  flame  of  a 
candle,  should  not  burn  him.  But  she  an- 
swered, "  I  cannot  explain  that  to  you,  my 
dear."  And  when  Frank  had  looked  at  the 
glowworm  as  long  as  he  liked  to  do  so,  his 
mother  desired  him  to  put  it  again  on  the 
bank  ;  and  he  did  so  ;  and,  before  they  got 
home,  Frank  saw  several  other  glowworms 
upon  the  banks  ;  and  his  mother  said  to  him; 
"  Now  you  know  the  meaning  of 

'  Glitter,  ye  glowworms,  on  your  mossy  beds.' " 


62  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank;  "glitter  means,  look 
bright,  shine.  Thank  you,  mamma,  foi 
showing  me  these  glowworms ;  and,  some 
time  or  other,  I  hope  we  shall  see  the  trunk 
of  a  moth." 


The  candles  were  lighted;  and  all  the 
window-shutters  in  the  room  were  shut,  ex- 
cept the  shutters  of  one  window,  which  was 
left  open  to  let  in  the  air ;  for  it  was  a  warm 
evening. 

Frank's  mother  was  sitting  upon  a  sofa, 
reading ;  and  Frank  was  kneeling  upon  a 
chair,  at  the  table  upon  which  the  candle 
stood.  He  was  looking  at  some  prints  in- a 
book  which  his  mother  had  lent  to  him. 

Through  the  window,  which  was  open, 
there  flew  into  the  room  a  large  moth.  It 
flew  towards  the  candle. 

"  O  mamma !  here  is  a  moth,"  cried  Frank. 

As  he  spoke,  the  moth,  which  had  flown 
very  quickly  round  and  round  the  candle 
two  or  three  times,  went  so  close  to  the 
flame,  that  Frank  thought  it  would  burn  itself 
to  death ;  and  he  cried,  "  O,  it  will  burn 
itself."  And  he  put  his  hand  before  his  eyes, 
that  he  might  not  see  the  moth  burn  itself. 
But  his  mother  did  not  put  her  hands  be- 
fore her  eyes ;  she  got  up  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble, and  put  her  hand  gently  over  the  moth, 
and  caught  it ;  and  so  prevented  it  from 
burning  itself  in  the  candle. 


FRANK.  63 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  caught  it,  mamma," 
said  Frank;  "  and  the  next  time  I  will  try  to 
catch  it,  as  you  did  ;  and  I  will  not  put  my 
hands  before  my  eyes,  because  that  did  the 
moth  no  good." 

His  mother  then  covered  the  moth  with  a 
glass  tumbler ;  and  she  put  it  upon  the  table ; 
and  Frank  looked  through  the  glass  ;  and  he 
saw  it  plainly. 

When  the  moth  was  quiet,  Frank's  mother 
took  a  honey-suckle  out  of  her  nosegay  ;  and 
she  lifted  up  one  side  of  the  tumbler,  a  little 
way  from  the  table  ;  and  she  squeezed  the 
honey-suckle  under  the  tumbler  ;  and  as  soon 
as  the  moth  perceived  the  flower  was  near 
him,  he  walked  upon  it ;  and  Frank  saw  him 
uncurl  what  is  called  his  trunk,  or  proboscis  ; 
and  he  saw  the  moth  dip  it  into  part  of  the 
flower  of  the  honey-suckle.  And  he  saw  also 
what  were  called  the  horns  of  the  moth  ;  and 
he  saw  the  animal  bow  them  forwards  ;  and 
he  said,  "  Now,  mamma,  will  you  repeat  those 
two  lines  about  the  moth  again  for  me  ?  " 

" '  Ye  painted  moths,  your  gold-eyed  plumage  furl ; 
Bow  your  wide  horns,  your  spiral  trunks  uncurl.'" 

"  Painted!  "  said  Frank  ;  "  it  does  not  mean 
that  the  moth  is  painted,  I  suppose,  but  that 
it  looks  as  if  it  was  painted.  Gold-eyed 
plumage,  mamma !  What  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"Plumage  means  feathers,  such  as  you  see 
on  birds.  Look  through  this  glass,"  said  his 
mother,  putting  a  magnifying-glass  into  his 
hand. 


64  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  1  have  looked  through  this  glass  before, 
at  a  caterpillar,  mamma  ;  it  makes  things  look 
larger." 

His  mother  lifted  up  the  tumbler,  gently  ; 
and,  as  the  moth  was  settled  upon  the  honey- 
suckle, Frank  looked  through  the  rnagnifying- 
glass  at  it. 

"  Mamma,  it  looks  very  large  ;  and  upon  its 
wings,"  said  Frank,  "  I  see  what  look  like 
very,  very  small  feathers." 

"  That  is  what  is  meant  by  plumage." 

11  But  gold-eyed,  mamma !  I  see  no  gold 
eyes." 

"  Do  you  see  some  spots  upon  the  wings  ?  " 

"  Dark-brown  spots,  mamma?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  They  are  of  the  shape  of  eyes ;  and, 
though  they  are  not  eyes,  they  are  called  so, 
from  their  shape.  In  some  moths,  those  spots 
are  yellow,  gold-colored  ;  and  then  they  may 
be  called  gold-eyed." 

"  One  thing  more,  mamma,"  said  Frank. 

"  What  does  it  mean  by Would  you 

be  so  good  as  to  say  the  last  line  again  ?  for  I 
do  not  recollect  the  word  that  I  did  not  un- 
derstand." 

His  mother  repeated  the  line  again  — 

" '  Ye  painted  moths,  your  gold-eyed  plumage  furl.' " 

"  Furl,  mamma  ;  furl  is  the  word  that  I  do 
not  understand."  His  mother  showed  him  a 
fan,  and  showed  him  what  is  meant  by  to 


FRANK.  65 

furl,  and  to  unfurl^  a  fan ;  and  when  the  moth 
closed,  and  afterwards  spread,  its  wings,  she 
said,  "  Now  he  is  furling,  and  now  he  is  un- 
furling, his  pretty  wings.  And  now  I  think 
we  have  kept  him  long  enough  under  this 
glass  ;  we  will  now  let  him  fly  about  where 
he  pleases."  So  she  took  the  moth,  and  let 
him  fly  out  of  the  window. 

"  Do  you  know,  mamma,"  said  Frank, 
"  that  I  can  repeat  those  two  lines  about  the 
moths  ?  I  wish  you  would  say  the  other  lines 
again  for  me,  that  I  might  learn  them  all,  and 
then  say  them  to  my  father.  I  think  he 
would  like  to  hear  me  say  them,  after  dinner, 
to-morrow,  mamma." 

"  I  think  your  father  will  like  to  hear  you 
repeat  them,  if  you  understand  them  all ;  but 
not  otherwise." 

"I  think  I  do  understand  them  all  —  every 
one  —  now,  mamma,  except  something  in  the 
last  line  about  bees  in  their  waxen  cells." 

"  You  never  saw  a  honey-comb,  did  you, 
Frank  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma,  never." 

"  When  you  see  a  honey-comb,  you  will 
know  what  is  meant  by  the  waxen  cells  in 
which  bees  live." 


The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  there  was 
part  of  a  honey-comb  upon   a  plate,  on  the 
breakfast-table  ;  and  Frank's  mother  showed 
6 


66  EARLY    LESSONS. 

it  to  him ;  and  she  gave  him  some  honey. 
He  liked  the  sweet  taste  of  the  honey  ;  and 
he  thought  the  honey-comb  was  very  pretty. 

His  mother  gave  him  a  little  bit  of  the 
honey-comb,  which  she  told  him  was  made 
of  wax. 

"  It  is  quite  a  different  sort  of  wax  from 
sealing-wax,  mamma,"  said  Frank.  "  Where 
does  this  wax  come  from ;  and  this  pretty 
honey-comb,  and  this  sweet  honey  ?  " 

His  mother  told  him  that  she  would  show 
him  where  they  all  came  from,  when  she  had 
finished  eating  her  breakfast.  And,  after 
breakfast  was  over,  she  took  Frank  with  her 
to  a  cottage,  belonging  to  an  old  woman  in 
the  neighborhood. 

The  old  woman  was  sitting  at  her  door, 
turning  a  small  wheel  very  quickly  round, 
which  Frank's  mother  told  him  was  called  a 
spinning-wheel. 

The  old  woman  pushed  her  spinning-wheel 
on  one  side,  and  got  up,  as  soon  as  they  came 
to  her  door. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  good  honey  you  sent 
us,  Mrs.  Wheeler,"  said  Frank's  mother. 

"  You  are  heartily  welcome,  ma'am,  I  am 
sure,"  said  the  old  woman  ;  "but  it  was  not  I 
that  sent  it ;  it  was  my  grandson  sent  it  to 
you George!  George!  are  you  there?" 

A  little  boy  came  running  to  the  door  ;  and 
he  smiled  when  he  saw  Frank ;  and  Frank 
smiled  when  he  saw  him  ;  for  he  recollected 


FRANK. 


67 


that  this  was  the  same  boy  to  whom  he  had 
returned  the  nuts  which  he  had  found  drop- 
ped near  the  stile  —  the  same  boy  who  had 
brought  him  back  his  ripe  bunch  of  cherries. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  honey  you  sent  us," 
said  Frank's  mother  to  this  boy  ;  "  will  you 
be  so  good  as  to  let  us  look  at  your  bee-hive  ? 
I  hear  that  you  have  a  glass  bee-hive." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  have,"  said  the  boy  ;  "and 
if  you  will  be  pleased  to  come  with  me  into 
the  garden,  I  will  show  it  to  you.  I  have  a 
glass  bee-hive  and  a  straw  bee-hive." 

Frank  and  his  mother  followed  the  boy. 


68 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


who  ran  across  a  narrow  passage,  which  went 
straight  through  the  house  ;  and  he  opened  a 
low  gate,  and  took  them  into  a  small  garden. 

The  paths  were  narrow  ;  and  he  said  to 
Frank,  "  Take  care  that  you  do  not  prick 
yourself  against  the  gooseberry-bushes,  as  I 
do,  when  I  am  in  a  hurry  to  get  by." 

Frank  took  care  not  to  prick  himself;  and 
the  boy  pointed  to  his  bee-hives,  and  said, 
"  There  are  my  bee-hives  ;  and  there  are  my 
bees." 

"  Did  bees  make  that  straw  basket  ?  "  said 
Frank. 


FRANK.  69 

The  boy  laughed  so  much  at  this  question 
that  he  could  make  no  answer ;  but  Frank's 
mother  answered,  "  No,  my  dear  ;  the  bee? 
did  not  make  that  straw  basket  ;  that  was 
made  by  men  ;  but  go  and  look  in,  through 
the  little  pane  of  glass  in  that  wooden  box, 
and  you  will  see  what  bees  make." 

"  Do  not  you  know,"  said  the  little  boy, 
"  what  bees  make  ?  I  thought  that  every  body 
knew  that  bees  make  honey  and  wax." 

"  How  can  they  make  honey  ?  What  do 
they  make  it  of?  "  said  Frank. 

"  They  collect  it ;  they  get  it  from  flow- 
ers," answered  his  mother :  and  she  said  to 
the  boy,  "  May  I  gather  this  honey-suckle  ?  " 
touching  a  honey-suckle  which  grew  in  an 
arbor,  close  beside  the  place  where  she  stood. 

"  Yes,  and  welcome,  ma'am,"  said  the 
boy;  "that  honey-suckle  is  mine;  grand- 
mother gave  it  to  me." 

When  Frank's  mother  had  gathered  the 
honey-suckle,  she  pulled  off  a  part  of  the 
flower ;  and  she  held  that  end  of  the  flower 
which  grew  next  the  stalk  to  Frank's  mouth  ; 
and  she  bid  him  suck  it. 

He  sucked  it. 

"  It  has  a  sweet  taste,  like  honey,"  said 
Frank.  "  Is  that  the  reason  the  flower  is 
called  honey-suckle,  mamma?" 

"Yes,  my  dear,  I  believe  it  is." 

"  And  have  all  flowers  honey  in  them 
mamma  ?  " 


70  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  I  do  not  know,  my  dear ;  but  I  know 
ihat  some  flowers  have  more  honey  in  them 
than  others." 

"And  how  do  bees  get  honey  from 
flowers?  " 

"  Look,  and  you  may  see  a  bee  now  set- 
tling upon  that  honey-suckle  in  the  arbor; 
you  will  see  all  that  I  have  seen,  if  you  use 
your  own  little  eyes." 

Frank  used  his  own  little  eyes ;  and  he 
saw  that  the  bee  stretched  out  its  proboscis, 
or  trunk,  and  put  it  down  into  the  flower ; 
then  drew  it  back  again,  and  flew  to  another 
part  of  the  flower;  settled  again,  and  again 
put  down  its  proboscis  ;  drew  it  back,  and 
put  it  to  its  mouth. 

"  I  fancy,  mamma,  the  bee  sucks  the  honey 
which  it  gets  in  the  flower,  from  its  probos- 
cis, every  time  it  puts  it  to  its  mouth ;  but  I 
am  not  sure,  because  I  do  not  see  the  honey." 

"  You  are  very  right  not  to  say  that  you 
are  sure  of  it,  as  you  do  not  see  it ;  but  I  be- 
lieve that  the  bee  does,  as  you  say,  draw 
the  honey  from  flowers  with  that  proboscis  ; 
and  then  he  puts  the  honey  into  his  mouth, 
and  then  swallows  the  honey.  With  a  good 
magnifying-glass,  you  might  see  that  the 
proboscis  of  the  bee  is  rough,  and  you  might 
see  the  little  drops  of  honey  sticking  to  it. 
The  bee  gets  but  one  or  two  very  small  drops 
Df  honey  from  one  flower." 

"  What  a  great  deal  of  work  it  must  be, 


FRANK.  71 

then,  for  the  bees  to  collect  as  much  honey 
as  I  ate  this  morning  at  breakfast !  But, 
mamma,  does  this  bee  swallow  all  the  honey 
it  gets  from  this  flower?  " 

"  Yes,  the  bee  swallows  it ;  it  keeps  the 
honey  in  a  little  bag ;  and  the  bee  has  the 
power  of  forcing  it  up  again  from  this  bag, 
whenever  it  pleases.  Usually,  the  bee  carries 
the  honey  home  to  the  hive,  and  puts  it  in 
the  little  waxen  cells ;  such  as  those  you 
saw  in  the  honey-comb,  to-day,  at  break- 
fast." 

"  And  where  do  the  bees  get  the  wax, 
mamma,  of  which  they  make  the  cells  in  the 
honey-comb  ? " 

"  I  am  not  sure,  my  dear,  what  that  wax 
is  ;  I  believe  that  it  is  made  partly  of  farina 
which  the  bees  collect  from  the  flowers,  and 
partly  of  some  sticky  substance  in  the  stom- 
achs of  the  bees.  Some  time  or  other,  you 
will  read  the  accounts  which  have  been  writ- 
ten of  bees ;  and  then  you  will  judge  for 
yourself." 

Frank  looked  through  the  glass  pane  into 
the  bee-hive  ;  but  he  said  that  the  bees 
crowded  so  close  to  one  another,  that  he 
could  not  see  what  they  were  doing. 

His  mother  told  him  that,  some  other  day, 
she  would  bring  him  again  to  see  the  bees  at 
work,  and  that,  by  degrees,  perhaps,  he  would 
distinguish  them,  and  see  what  they  were 
doing. 


72  EARLY    LESSONS. 

When  Frank  went  home,  he  said,  "  Now, 
mamma,  that  I  know  what  is  meant  by  bees 
in  their  waxen  cells,  may  I  learn  those  lines  ? 
and  will  you  repeat  them  to  me?  " 

"  It  is  troublesome  to  me,  my  dear,"  said 
his  mother,  "  to  repeat  them  so  often  over ; 
but  here  is  a  book  in  which  you  can  read 
them  yourself;  and  you  may  now  learn  them 
by  rote,  if  you  like  it." 

Frank  read  the  lines  over  and  over,  and 
tried  to  learn  them  by  rote ;  and  at  last  he 
could  repeat  them,  as  he  thought,  perfectly ; 
and  one  day,  after  dinner,  he  went  to  his  fa- 
ther, and  told  him  that  he  could  repeat  some 
pretty  lines  to  him,  if  he  would  give  him 
leave. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  them,  Frank," 
said  his  father.  "  Begin  and  repeat  them." 
So  Frank  repeated  them,  without  making  any 
mistakes ;  and  when  he  had  repeated  them, 
his  father-asked  him  several  questions  about 
them,  to  try  whether  he  understood  them  ; 
and  his  father  was  pleased  to  find  that  he 
really  did  understand ;  and  Frank  told  him 
that  his  mother  had  been  so  good  as  to  show 
him  a  glowworm,  and  a  moth,  and  a  bee- 
hive, and  that  she  had  explained  to  him  all 
the  words  in  the  lines  which  he  did  not  at 
first  understand. 

"  I  am  glad,  my  dear,"  said  his  father, 
"  that  you  have  had  so  much  amusement 


FRANK.  73 

and  that  you  have  had  the  perseverance 
to  learn  any  thing  well,  that  you  began  to 

learn But,  pray  tell  me    why  you  have 

been  continually  buttoning  and  unbuttoning 
the  left  sleeve  of  your  coat,  whilst  you  have 
been  talking  to  me,  and  whilst  you  were 
repeating  these  verses." 

"  I  do  not  know,  papa,"  said  Frank,  laugh- 
ing ;  "  only  I  remember  that  when  I  was 
getting  the  verses  by  rote,  and  saying  them 
by  myself,  I  first  began  buttoning  and  unbut- 
toning this  sleeve,  and  then  I  could  not  say 
the  verses  so  well  without  doing  that." 

"And  do  not  you  remember,  Frank,"  said 
his  mother,  "  that  I  spoke  to  you,  several 
times,  and  told  you  that  I  was  afraid  you 
would  get  a  trick,  a  habit,  of  buttoning  and 
unbuttoning  that  sleeve  of  yours,  if  you  did 
not  take  care  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  said  Frank ;  "  and  I 
stopped  whenever  you  spoke  to  me,  and 
whenever  I  remembered  it ;  but  then  I  found 
myself  doing  it  again,  without  thinking  of 
it ;  and  now,  whenever  I  am  trying  to  recoi- 
lect  any  thing,  I  cannot  recollect  it  half  so 
well  without  buttoning  and  unbuttoning  my 
sleeve." 

"  Give  me  hold  of  your  right  hand,"  said 
his  father. 

Frank  gave  his  hand  to  his  father. 

"  Now,"  said  his  father,  "  repeat  those  lines 
to  me  once  more." 
7 


74  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Frank  began  — 

" '  Stay  thy  soft-murmuring  waters,  gentle  rill  i 
Hush,  whispering  winds '  " 

But  here  he  twitched  his  hand,  which  hig 
father  held  fast :  — 


•' '  Hush,  whispering  winds  • 


"  Father,  I  cannot  say  it  whilst  you  hold 
my  hand." 

His  father  let  go  his  hand. 

Frank  immediately  buttoned  and  unbut- 
toned his  sleeve,  and  then  repeated,  very 
fluently, 

" '  Hush,  whispering  winds ;  ye  rustling  leaves,  be  still ; 
Rest,  silver  butterflies '  " 

But  here  his  father  caught  hold  of  his 
hand ;  and  he  could  get  no  farther. 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  father,  "  it  would  be 
very  inconvenient  to  you,  if  your  memory 
was  to  depend  upon  your  button  ;  for  you 
see  that  I  can  make  you  forget,  in  an  instant, 
all  you  have  to  say,  by  only  catching  hold  of 
your  hand."  "  But,  then,  papa,  if  you 
would  be  so  good  as  not  to  catch  hold  of  my 
hand,"  said  Frank,  "you  would  hear  how 
well  I  could  repeat  the  lines." 

"It  is  of  little  consequence,"  said  his  fa- 
ther, "  whether  you  repeat  these  lines  to- 
day, or  to-morrow ;  but  it  is  of  great  conse- 
quence that  you  should  not  learn  foolish, 
awkward  tricks ;  therefore  I  beg  you  will  not 
say  them  to  me  again,  till  you  can  hold  your- 


FRANK.  75 

self  perfectly  still  whilst  you  are  repeating 
them." 


Frank's  father  and  mother  went  out  to 
walk,  and  Frank  went  with  them.  "  O,  I 
am  glad  you  are  going  this  way,"  said  Frank, 
"because  now  I  shall  see  the  swing." 

His  father  had  had  a  swing  put  up  between 
two  trees  ;  Frank  had  seen  it  from  the  window 
of  the  room  in  which  he  slept ;  but  he  had 
never  yet  been  close  to  it ;  and  he  wished  very 
much  to  see  it,  and  to  swing  in  it. 

When  he  came  up  to  it,  he  found  that  there 
was  a  soft  cushion,  fastened  to  the  middle  of 
the  rope  of  which  the  swing  was  made. 

One  end  of  the  rope  was  tied  round  the 
trunk  of  a  large  ash  tree;  and  the  other  end 
of  the  rope  was  tied  round  the  trunk  of  an 
oak,  that  was  opposite  to  the  ash. 

The  rope  was  tied  towards  the  top  of  the 
trees  ;  and  some  of  the  branches  of  the  trees 
were  cut  away  ;  so  that  the  rope  could  swing 
backwards  and  forwards,  without  catching  in 
any  thing. 

The  cushion,  which  made  the  seat  of  the 
swing,  hung  so  near  the  ground,  that  Frank 
could  reach  it  ;  and  he  asked  his  fathef 
whether  he  might  sit  upon  it. 

His  father  told  him  that  he  might  ;  and  h<j 
said,  "  Take  hold  of  the  cord  on  each  side  of 


76 


EARLY  LESSON^. 


yon,  and  hold  it  fast ;  and  your  mother  and  I 
will  swing  you." 

Prank  jumped  up  on  the  cushion  directly, 
and  seated  himself,  and  took  hold  of  the  cord 
on  each  side  of  him,  with  each  of  his  hands. 

"  You  must  take  care  not  to  let  go  the  cord 
whilst  we  are  swinging  you,"  said  his  father ; 
"  or  perhaps  you  will  tumble  out  of  the  swing, 
and  hurt  yourself." 

"  I  will  not  let  go,  papa ;  I  will  hold  fast," 
said  Frank  :  and  his  father  and  mother  began 
to  swing  him  backwards  and  forwards.  He 
liked  it  very  much  ;  but  it  was  a  sharp  even- 


FRANK.  77 

ing  in  autumn,  and  his  father  and  mother  did 
not  like  to  stand  still  long  to  swing  him. 

"  When  you  have  had  twenty  more  swings 
backwards  and  forwards,  we  will  stop,  Frank," 
said  his  father.  So  Frank  began  to  count 
the  swings  ;  and.  whilst  he  was  counting,  a 
leaf  fell  from  the  tree,  and  put  him  out ;  and 
he  tried  to  recollect  whether  the  last  number 
of  swings  he  had  counted  to  himself  was 
six  or  seven  ;  and  the  moment  he  began  to 
try  to  recollect  this,  he  let  go  the  cord  with 
his  right  hand  ;  for  he  was  going  to  button 
and  unbutton  his  sleeve,  as  he  had  the  habit 
of  doing,  when  he  was  trying  to  recollect 
any  thing. 

The  moment  he  let  go  the  cord,  he  twisted 
a  little  in  the  seat,  and  could  not  catch  the 
cord  again  ;  and  he  fell  out  of  the  swing. 

He  fell  on  the  grass,  and  he  hurt  his  ankle, 
but  not  much. 

"  It  is  well  you  were  not  more  hurt,"  said 
his  father.  "  If  we  had  been  swinging  you 
higher,  and  if  you  had  fallen  upon  the  gravel- 
walk,  instead  of  on  the  grass,  you  might  have 
been  very  much  hurt.  My  dear,  why  did 
you  let  go  the  cord  ?  " 

"  Papa,"  said  Frank,  "  because  I  was  try- 
ing to  recollect  whether  it  was  six  swings  or 
seven  that  I  had  had." 

"  Well,  and  could  not  you  recollect  that, 
without  letting  go  the  cord  ?  " 

"  No,  papa  ;  the  thing  was  —  that  I  was,  I 


78  EARLY    LESSONS 

believe,  going  to  button  my  sleeve.  I  wish  I 
had  not  that  trick." 

"  You  may  cure  yourself  of  it,  if  you  take 
pains  to  do  so,"  said  his  father. 

"  I  wish  I  cojld,"  said  Frank  ;  "my  ankle 
is  not  very  much  hurt,  however.  Papa  will 
put  me  into  the  swing  again  ;  and  I  think  I 
shall  take  more  care  not  to  let  go  the  cord 
now.  You  know  I  have  not  had  all  my 
twenty  swings,  papa." 

"No;  you  have  had  but  eight,"  said  his 
father ;  "  but  I  am  afraid,  that  if  I  were  to 
put  you  into  the  swing  again,  and  if  you  were 
to  begin  counting  again,  if  you  should  not  be 
able  to  recollect  the  number,  you  would  let 
go  the  cord  to  button  your  sleeve,  and  you 
would  slip  out  of  the  swing  again." 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Frank  ;  "  I  think  this  is 
the  very  thing  that  would  cure  me  of  that 
trick,  because  I  do  not  like  to  tumble  down, 
and  hurt  myself;  and  I  think  I  should  take 
care,  and  count,  and  recollect,  without  but- 
toning or  unbuttoning  this  sleeve.  May  I  try, 
papa  ?  " 

His  father  shook  hands  with  him,  and  said, 
"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  can  bear  a  little 
pain,  and  that  you  wish  to  cure  yourself  of 
this  foolish  trick.  Jump,  my  boy,"  said  his 
father ;  and  Frank  sprung  up,  and  his  father 
seated  him  in  the  swing  again. 

He  counted  and  held  fast  by  the  rope  this 
time  ;  and,  just  when  he  was  come  to  the 


FRANK.  79 

eighteenth  swing,  his  father  said  to  him,  "  Can 
you  recollect  the  last  number  you  counted, 
without  letting  go  the  rope  to  button  your 
sleeve  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa,"  said  Frank,  "I  can  ;  it  was 
seventeen." 

"  And  you  have  had  two  swings  since  I 
spoke  last ;  how  many  does  that  make  ?  " 

Frank  was  just  going  to  let  go  the  cord  to 
button  his  sleeve  ;  but  he  recollected  his  for- 
mer tumble.  He  held  fast ;  and,  after  think- 
ing for  an  instant,  answered,  "  Seventeen 
swings  and  two  swings  make  nineteen 
swings." 

His  father  then  gave  him  one  good  swing 
more,  and  then  lifted  him  out ;  and  his  mother 
kissed  him. 

The  next  day  his  father  was  going  from 
home  ;  and,  when  he  took  leave  of  him,  Frank 
asked  him  if  there  was  any  thing  he  could  do 
for  him  whilst  he  was  away. 

"  May  I  dust  the  books  in  your  study,  papa  ? 
I  can  do  that,"  said  Frank. 

"  I  would  rather,  my  dear,"  said  his  father, 
"  that  you  should,  whilst  I  am  away,  learn  to 
repeat  the  lines  which  you  got  by  heart  with- 
out   » 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  papa  ;  I  will  try 
if  I  can." 

His  father  went  away  ;  and  Frank,  after 
tie  was  gone,  asked  his  mother  if  she  would 
take  him  to  the  swing,  and  swing  him,  and 


80  EARLY    LESSONS. 

let  him  try  whether  he  could  recollect  som« 
of  the  verses  whilst  he  was  swinging ;  for 
then,  you  know,  mamma,  I  cannot  move  my 
hands  without  tumbling  out ;  and  I  shall  take 
care." 

But  his  mother  said,  she  did  not  choose  to 
swing  him,  whilst  his  father  was  away  ;  and 
Frank  soon  afterwards  said,  "  Will  you  be  so 
good,  then,  mamma,  as  to  cut  off  this  button, 
and  to  sew  up  this  button-hole  for  me  ?  and 
then  I  cannot  button  and  unbutton  it." 

His  mother  cut  off  the  button,  and  sewed 
up  the  button-hole  ;  and  several  times,  when 
he  was  trying  to  repeat  the  lines,  he  felt  for 
the  button  and  button-hole ;  but  when  he 
found  that  the  button  was  gone,  and  that  he 
could  not  put  his  finger  into  the  button-hole, 
he,  by  degrees,  left  off  feeling  for  them. 

His  father  staid  away  a  week  ;  and,  in  this 
time,  Prank  quite  cured  himself  of  the  foolish 
trick  which  he  had  had,  and  he  repeated  the 
lines  to  himself;  whilst  he  held  his  hands 
quite  still. 

He  asked  his  mother  to  sew  on  the  button 
again,  and  to  open  the  button-hole,  the  day 
his  father  came  home  ;  and  she  did  so. 

And  when  his  father  came  home,  and  after 
he  had  said,  "How  do  you  do,  father?" 
Frank  cried,  "May  I  say  the  lines  now 
father?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear." 

He  stood  opposite  to  his  father,  held  his 


FRANK.  81 

hands  perfectly  still,  and  repeated  the  lines 
without  making  a  single  mistake. 

His  father  was  pleased  ;  and  he  desired  the 
servant,  who  was  bringing  some  things  of  his 
out  of  the  chaise  in  which  he  came,  to  give 
him  a  book  that  was  in  the  front  pocket  of 
the  chaise. 

The  book  was  Bewick's  History  of  Quad- 
rupeds ;  it  had  very  pretty  prints  in  it. 

Frank's  father  wrote,  in  a  blank  page  at 
the  beginning  of  it,  — 

"  This  book  was  given  to  Frank ,  October 
the  27th,  1798,  by  his  father,  as  a  mark  of 
his  father's  approbation  for  his  having,  at 
six  years  old,  cured  himself  of  a  foolish 
habit." 

"  Read  that,  if  you  can,  Frank,"  said  his 
father. 

Frank  could  not  read  all  the  words  ;  for  he 
was  not  used  to  read  writing  ;  but  his  mother 
read  it  to  him. 

And  Frank  liked  the  prints  in  this  book 
very  much  ;  and  he  said,  "  Shall  I  read  all 
that  is  in  the  book,  papa  ? " 

"  Read  only  what  you  can  understand,  and 
what  entertains  you  in  it,  my  dear,"  said  his 
father. 


Frank  was  kneeling  upon  a  chair,  besid<* 
the  table  upon  which  his  mother  was  writing. 
He  was  looking  at  the  prints  in  his  Bewick  j 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


and  every  minute  he  exclaimed,  "  O  mamma, 
look  at  this  !  Mamma,  here  is  a  very  pretty 
print !  Only  look  at  this  one,  mamma  —  the 
old,  old  man,  going  over  a  narrow  bridge,  and 
his  dog  leading  him.  He  is  a  blind  man,  I 
suppose  ;  and  the  wind  has  blown  his  hat 
off ;  and  it  is  raining  very  hard.  Pray  look, 
mamma !  " 

His  mother  put  down  her  pen,  and  she 
looked  at  the  print,  which  she  said  was  very 
pretty. 

"  But  now,  Frank,"  added  she,  "  do  not 
interrupt  me  any  more." 


FRANK.  83 

Frank  was  silent  after  this  ;  but,  whenever 
le  turned  over  a  new  leaf,  he  put  down  both 
his  elbows  upon  the  table,  to  look  at  the  new 
print ;  and  he  shook  the  table,  so  that  his 
mother  could  not  write  ;  wherefore  she  at  last 
desired  him  to  take  his  book  to  another  table. 
He  did  so  ;  but  he  said  that  he  could  not  see 
nearly  so  well  as  when  he  was  nearer  to  the 
light. 

"  If  you  had  not  disturbed  me,"  said  his 
mother,  "  I  should  not  have  sent  you  away 
from  this  table.  You  should  consider  what 
is  agreeable  to  others,  or  they  will  not  con- 
sider what  is  agreeable  to  you." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  if  you  will  let 
me  come  back  to  the  table  where  you  are 
sitting,  I  will  take  care  not  to  shake  the 
table." 

His  mother  told  Frank  that  he  might  come  ; 
and  he  took  care  not  to  shake  the  table. 

A  little  while  after  this,  he  was  trying  to 
draw  the  old  man,  going  over  the  bridge. 
Pompey,  a  little  dog  that  was  in  the  room, 
jumped  up,  suddenly,  behind  Frank's  chair, 
and  shook  the  table. 

"Fie,  Pompey  !  fie! — down!  down!" 
cried  Frank.  "  I  don't  like  you,  Pompey, 
at  all." 

"  Why  don't  you  like  Pompey  ? "  said 
Frank's  mother ;  "  you  generally  are  very 
fond  of  him." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  so  I  am  fond  of  him,  gen- 


84 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


erally ;  but  I  don't  like  him  now,  because  he 
shook  me,  and  hindered  me  from  drawing. 

0  Pompey !    Pompey !   again   you  gave  my 
elbow  a  great  shake.     Look,  mamma ;  just  as 

1  was  drawing  the  old  man's  nose,  he  shook 
me." 

"  Who  ?  the  old  man  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma,  but  Pompey.  Just  as  I  was 
drawing  the  old  man's  nose,  Pompey  shook 
me,  and  made  me  make  the  old  man's  nose 
as  large  as  his  whole  head.  O  Pompey,  you 
have  spoiled  my  old  man,  entirely.  But  I'll 
rub  out  his  nose,  and  draw  it  over  again." 

Just  as  Frank  had  finished  drawing  the  old 
man's  nose  over  again,  the  dog  shook  him 
again,  and  Frank  was  angry.  "  Don't  shake, 
Pompey  ;  I  have  bid  you  several  times  not  to 
shake,  and  still  you  go  on  shaking.  Naughty 
Pompey  !  why  don't  you  do  as  you  are  bid  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  the  dog  does  not  understand 
you,"  said  Frank's  mother. 

"  Well,  but  it  is  very  disagreeable,  that  he 
should  shake  the  table.  I  don't  like  him  at 
all,  to-night." 

Here  Frank  began  struggling  with  Pompey. 

Pompey  had  his  fore  paws  upon  the  table ; 
and  Frank  was  trying  to  drag  him  back,  by 
the  hind  legs  ;  but  all  this  struggling  shoolf 
the  table  very  much. 

"  Frank,  I  don't  like  either  you  or  Pompey, 
now,"  said  Frank's  mother;  "because  you, 
both  of  you,  shake  the  table,  so  that  I  cannot 


FKANK.  85 

write.  Look,  here  is  an  O,  that  is  as  crooked 
as  your  old  man's  nose." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  mamma,"  said  Frank  ; 
"  but  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  put  Pompey 
out  of  the  room  ;  and  then  we  shall  all  be 

both  quiet  and  happy. You  know  you 

sent  me  to  another  table  when  I  was  trouble- 
some ;  and  now,  if  you  put  Pompey  out  of 
the  room,  he  cannot  be  troublesome  to  us  any 
more." 

•'  Very  true,"  said  his  mother  ;  and  she  put 
Pompey  out  of  the  room. 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  gone,"  cried  Prank  ;  "  now 
I  can  draw  nicely." 

"  And  now  I  can  write  nicely,"  said  his 
mother. 

"  Mamma,  are  you  as  glad  when  I  go  out 
of  the  room,  after  I  have  been  troublesome,  as 
we  are  now,  that  we  have  got  rid  of  Pompey  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  But  when  I  am  not  troublesome,  you  are 
not  glad  when  I  go  out  of  the  room." 

"  No  ;  I  am  glad  to  have  you  with  me 
when  you  are  not  troublesome." 

"  And  you  are  more  glad  to  have  me  with 
you  when  I  am  useful  to  you,  as  I  was  yes- 
terday, when  I  helped  you  to  cut  open  the 
leaves  of  those  new  books  which  you  wanted 
to  read.  You  liked  me  very  much  then, 
when  you  said  I  was  useful  to  you." 

"  Yes  ;  people  like  those  who  are  useful  to 
them." 


86  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  And  I  like  to  be  liked,  mamma,  by  you, 
more  than  by  any  body ;  so  I  will  try  always 
to  be  as  useful  to  you  as  I  can.  I  can  be  use- 
ful to  you  now,  mamma,  if  you  will  give  me 
leave." 

"  I  will  give  you  leave  in  welcome,  Frank," 
said  his  mother,  smiling.  So  Frank  went 
for  a  little  bit  of  wood,  which  his  father  had 
given  to  him ;  and  he  cut  it,  with  his  knife, 
into  the  shape  of  a  wedge ;  and  he  put  his 
wedge  under  one  of  the  legs  of  the  table, 
which  was  shorter  than  the  other  legs ;  and 
the  table  was  now  much  steadier  than  it  was 
before. 

"  Now,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  try  to 
shake  the  table,  and  you  will  feel  how  steady 
it  is ;  I  can  put  my  elbows  upon  it  now, 
without  shaking  it ;  and  I  dare  say  even 
Pompey  would  not  shake  it.  if  he  was  to  leap 
up  as  he  did  just  now.  Is  not  my  wedge 
useful,  mamma  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  thank  you  for  it,  my  dear." 

"  And  now,  mamma,  may  I  open  the  door, 
and  let  poor  Pompey  in  again?  for  he  cannot 
easily  shake  us  now." 

Frank's  mother  told  him  that  he  might  let 
Pompey  in  again ;  and  when  Frank  opened 
the  door,  he  saw  Pompey  sitting  upon  his  hind 
legs,  holding  something  up  in  his  forepaws, 
"  O,  mamma,  it  is  my  glove,"  cried  Frank, 
"the  glove  that  I  lost  yesterday.  Useful 


FRANK.  87 

Pompey!  I  like  you  for  finding  my  glove. 
Useful  Pompey  !    Come  in,  useful  Pompey  !  " 


One  evening  at  tea-time,  there  was  a  small 
plum-cake  upon  a  plate  on  the  tea-table,  and 
there  was  a  knife  beside  the  plate.  Frank's 
father  and  mother,  and  two  of  his  brothers, 
were  sitting  round  the  table  ;  his  mother  was 
beginning  to  pour  out  the  tea ;  and  she  called 
to  Frank,  and  said  to  him,  "  My  dear,  cut 
this  plum-cake  into  five  pieces  for  us,  and 
take  care  that  you  make  all  the  pieces  of  the 
same  size,  for  your  father,  and  your  two 
brothers,  and  yourself,  and  me ;  and  give  us 
each  a  just  share." 

Frank  began  to  cut  the  cake ;  but  by  mis- 
take, he  divided  it  into  six  parts,  instead  of 
into  five. 

"  Mamma,"  said  he,  "  what  shall  I  do 
with  this  bit  ?  I  have  five  without  it ;  one  for 
you,  and  one  for  my  father,  and  one  for  my 
brother  Edward,  and  one  for  my  brother 
Harry,  and  one  for  myself.  What  shall  I  do 
with 'this  bit  that  is  left  ?  " 

"  What  is  most  just  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  had  better  keep  it  myself,  mam- 
ma, because  it  belongs  to  nobody,  and  I 
should  have  it  for  the  trouble  of  cutting  the 
cake  for  every  body." 

uNo,"  said  his  brother  Henry,  "  I  do  not 
think  that  would  be  just,  because,  then,  you 


88  EARLY    LESSONS. 

would  be  rewarded  for  making  a  mistake  ;  if 
you  had  cut  the  cake  rightly,  there  would 
not  be  this  bit  to  spare." 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  "  I  do  not  think  it 
would  be  just  that  I  should  have  it :  but  who, 
then,  shall  I  give  it  to  ?  I  will  give  it  to  you, 
mamma,  because  I  like  to  give  it  to  you  best. 

No,  I  will  give  it  to  papa,  because  he  likes 

plum-cake  better  than  you  do. Stay,  I 

will  give  it  to  you,  Henry,  because  you 

mended  my  kite  for  me. No,  indeed,  I 

must  give  it  to  poor  Edward,  because  he  had 
no  cherry-pie  to-day,  at  dinner." 

"  But,"  said  his  mother,  "  what  right  have 
you,  Frank,  to  give  this  bit  of  cake  to  poor 
Edward,  because  he  had  no  cherry-pie  to- 
day, at  dinner ;  or  to  good  Henry,  because 
he  mended  your  kite ;  or  to  your  father,  be- 
cause he  loves  plum-cake  better  than  I  do  ; 
or  to  me,  because  you  like  to  give  it  to  me  ? 
What  right  have  you  to  give  it  away  to  any 
of  us  ? " 

"  Mamma,  you  said  that  I  was  to  give  each 
of  you  your  just  share ;  and  I  thought  I  was 
to  be  judge " 

"  Remember  that  I  desired  you  to  divide 
the  cake  into  five  pieces,  all  of  the  same  size; 
you  were  to  judge  about  the  size  of  the 
pieces ;  and  you  were  to  take  care  that  we 
have  each  our  just  share  ;  but  you  are  going 
to  give  one  of  us  twice  as  much  as  any  of  the 
others." 


FRANK.  89 

"  I  cannot  make  the  pieces  the  right  size, 
now,  mamma." 

"But  you  can  give  us  each  equal  quanti- 
ties of  cake  :  cannot  you  ?  " 

"How,  mamma?" 

"  Think :  when  you  are  trusted  to  divide 
any  thing,  you  must  take  the  trouble,  Mr. 
Judge,  to  consider  how  it  is  to  be  done 
fairly." 

Frank  took  the  trouble  to  think ;  and  he 
then  cut  the  spare  bit  of  cake  into  five  equal 
parts  ;  and  he  put  these  parts  by  the  side  of 
the  five  large  pieces  of  cake,  and  gave  one  of 
the  large  pieces,  and  one  of  the  little  pieces, 
to  each  person;  and  he  then  said,  "  I  believe 
I  have  divided  the  cake  fairly  now."  Every 
body  present  said,  "  Yes ;  "  and  every  body 
looked  carefully  at  each  of  the  shares,  and 
there  appeared  exactly  the  same  quantity  in 
each  share.  So  each  person  took  their  por- 
tion ;  and  all  were  satisfied.  Justice  satisfies 
every  body. 

"My  dear  Frank,"  said  his  mother,  "as 
you  have  divided  the  cake  so  fairly,  let  us 
see  how  you  will  divide  the  sugar  that  was 
upon  the  top  of  the  cake,  and  which  is  now 
broken  and  crumbled  to  pieces  in  the  plate. 
We  all  like  that  sugar ;  divide  it  equally 
among  us." 

"But   this   will    be   very   difficult   to   do, 
mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  because  the  pieces  of 
sugar    are    all    of    such   different   sizes    and 
H 


00  EARLY    LESSONS. 

shapes  ;  and  here  are  so  many  crumbs  of  cake 
mixed  with  the  crumbs  of  sugar;  I  do  not 
know  how  I  shall  ever  divide  it  exactly. 
Will  it  do,  if  I  do  not  divide  it  quite  exactly, 
ma'am  ? " 

"No,"  said  his  mother;  "  I  beg  you  will 
divide  it  quite  exactly :  you  can  do  it,  if  you 
take  the  right  way  to  do  it." 

Frank  first  took  out  all  the  largest  bits  of 
sugar,  and  laid  them  upon  one  another,  and 
broke  off  the  corners  and  edges  till  he  thought 

CJ  O 

he  had  five  of  them  of  the  same  size  exactly, 
and  then  he  divided  the  crumbs,  and  little 
broken  bits,  into  five  heaps,  which  he  thought 
seemed  to  be  of  the  same  size. 

But  when  he  had  done,  his  brother  Henry 
said,  "  This  heap  next  me  is  a  great  deal 
larger  than  any  of  the  others." 

And  Edward  said,  "  My  heap  is  taller  than 
yours ;  but  it  is  not  so  closely  squeezed  to- 
gether; and  that  makes  a  great  difference." 

And  his  father  said,  "  Frank,  my  large  bit 
of  sugar  is  twice  as  big  as  your  largest  bit." 

"  O  no,  indeed,  papa ;  I  measured  them, 
and  they  are  exactly  the  same  size ;  put 
yours  upon  mine,  and  you  shall  see.  Look, 
papa — not  the  least  corner  or  crumb  dif- 
ference." 

"  They  are  of  the  same  length  and  breadth, 
I  acknowledge,"  said  his  father ;  "  but  they 
are  not  of  the  same  thickness." 

"O,  thickness !  I  never  thought  of  thick' 
ness." 


FRANK.  91 

"But  you  should  think  of  it,"  said  his 
father ;  "  because,  look  here ;  if  I  was  to 
cut  my  bit  of  sugar,  which  is  twice  as  thick 
as  yours,  into  two  slices,  each  of  those  slices 
would  be  as  long,  and  as  broad,  and  as  thick, 
as  your  bit  is  now,  and  I  should  have  two 
bits  of  the  same  size  as  yours  —  twice  as 
much  as  you." 

"  Ah  !  so  you  would  ;  thickness  does  make 
a  great  difference.  Then,  how  shall  I 
manage  ?  for  if  I  begin  to  cut  the  sugar,  in 

your  way,  in  slices Look,  papa,  it  all 

crumbles.  Indeed,  the  crumbs  are  the  most 
easily  divided.  I  will  crumble  it  all,  and 
then  divide  the  crumbs  amongst  you ;  and 
then  1  shall  have  no  difficulty  about  the 
thickness."  So  Frank  pounded  the  sugar 
with  a  spoon,  till  it  was  all  become  a  fine 
powder ;  and  then  he  divided  it  into  heaps ; 
but  still  people  did  not  agree  that  his  heaps 
were  all  of  the  same  size. 

"  We  can  measure  them,"  said  Frank  ;  and 
he  put  one  of  the  heaps  into  a  tea-spoon  ;  it 
did  not  quite  fill  the  spoon.  Another  of  the 
heaps  filled  the  spoon  higher  than  the  brim. 
Another  was  exactly  a  spoonful. 

Frank  added  to  one  heap,  and  took  from 
another. 

"  You  squeeze  the  sugar  in  the  spoon,  and 
thit  will  make  more  go  in  than  there  should," 
said  Henry. 

"Indeed!  indeed!"   said  Frank,   "it  can- 


92  EARLY    LESSONS. 

not  be  divided  more  exactly  ;  it  is  impossible 
to  divide  the  sugar  more  exactly  than  I  have 
done  it  now  ;  is  not  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  that  it  is  impossible  to  di- 
vide it  more  exactly,"  said  his  mother,  smil- 
ing ;  "  but,  as  far  as  I  can  guess,  by  looking  at 
your  heaps,  they  seem  to  be  of  the  same 
size.  I  cannot,  however,  be  sure,  merely  by 
looking  at  them,  that  they  contain  exactly 
equal  quantities." 

"  How,  then,  could  you  be  sure  ?  I  do 
not  feel  any  difference,  mamma.  Perhaps  I 
could  find  out  by  weighing  them  in  a  pair  of 

scales. Papa,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to 

lend  me  the  scales  in  which  you  were  weigh- 
ing—  money,  T  believe,  yesterday?" 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  his  father ;  "  the  sau- 
cers of  those -scales  are  made  of  brass;  and 
you  must  not  put  any  thing  that  you  are 
going  to  eat  near  brass,  because  the  rust  of 
brass  is  poisonous.  I  will  lend  you  anoth- 
er pair  of  scales,  which  are  made  of  ivory  ; 
and  in  these  you  may  weigh  your  sugar. 

Go  for  these  scales ;  they  are  upon  the 

table  that  is  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the 

window  in  my  study. As  you  are  used 

to  find  your  way  about  the  house  in  the 
dark,  you  will  readily  find  what  you  want." 

Frank  found  the  scales,  and  weighed  his 
heaps  of  sugar  very  carefully.  He  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  there  was  so  much  differ- 
ence in  the  weight  of  the  heaps,  which  ho 


FRANK.  93 

thought  were  exactly  of  the  same  size.  By 
patiently  adding  and  taking  away,  he  at  last; 
however,  made  them  each  of  the  same 
weight ;  and  every  body  was  then  satisfied 
with  the  accuracy  of  his  division. 

"  Now,  Frank,  eat  your  own  share  of  cake, 
and  drink  this  dish  of  tea,  which  has  grown 
quite  cold  whilst  you  have  been  dividing 
and  weighing,"  said  his  mother.  And  whilst 
Frank  and  his  brothers  were  eating  their 
shares  of  plum-cake,  Frank's  father  said  that, 
if  they  pleased,  he  would  read  a  short  story  to 
them.  The  boys  said  that  they  should  like 
to  hear  a  story  ;  and  the  story  that  he  read 

was  out  of  Sandford  and  Merton Cyrus's 

judgment  about  the  two  coats. 


One  day,  Frank  went  with  his  mother  to 
a  shop  in  a  town :  it  was  a  shop  where 
gloves,  and  ribands,  and  caps,  and  hats,  were 
sold.  His  mother,  after  she  had  bought 
some  gloves  which  she  wanted,  went  into  a 
little  room  behind  the  shop,  to  see  a  poor 
girl,  who  was  ill. 

"  Frank,"  said  his  mother,  "  stay  in  this 
shop  till  I  come  back  again." 

Frank  staid  in  the  shop ;  and  whilst  he 
was  there,  a  carriage  stopped  at  the  door; 
and  a  lady  got  out  of  the  carriage  and  came 
into  the  shop  where  Frank  was ;  she  asked 
to  look  at  some  ribands ;  and  whilst  the 


94  EARLY    LESSONS. 

shop-man  was  looking  in  some  little  drawers 
for  ribands,  the  lady  turned  to  look  at  Frank, 
and  said,  "  Does  this  little  boy  belong  to 
you  ?  "  meaning  the  shop-keeper. 

"  O,  no,  ma'am  ;  he  belongs  to  a  lady  who 
is  just  gone  into  the  next  room ;  "  and  the 
shop-keeper  mentioned  the  name  of  Frank's 
mother. 

The  moment  the  lady  heard  this,  she 
smiled  at  Frank,  called  him  to  her,  kissed 
him,  and  told  him  he  was  a  charming  little 
creature.  She  then  asked  him  several  ques- 
tions ;  and  Frank  was  pleased  by  her  smiling 
at  him,  and  praising  him  ;  and  he  began  to 
talk  to  her ;  and  then  she  said  he  was  the 
finest  boy  she  had  ever  seen  in  her  life ;  and 
he  liked  her  still  better. 

She  was  rolling  np  some  riband  in  a  paper 
upon  which  some  words  were  printed ;  and 
she  asked  him  whether  he  could  read  any  of 

those  words. "  O,  yes,"  said  Frank  ;  and 

he  read,  "  Sarsnets,  modes,  and  peelings;  the 
most  fashionable  assortment." 

The  lady  stopped  his  mouth  by  kissing 
him ;  and  she  told  him  he  was  a  very  clever 
little  fellow,  indeed. 

Frank  thought  he  should  appear  to  her  still 
cleverer,  if  he  repeated  the  pretty  verses  he 
had  learned  by  heart.  "  O,  what  a  memory 
he  has!  I  never  heard  any  thing  so  well  re- 
peated !  "  exclaimed  the  lady. 

Frank  went  on  to  tell  the  history  of  his 


FRANK.  95 

Laving  cured  himself  of  the  trick  of  button- 
ing and  unbuttoning  his  coat ;  and  he  told 
her,  that  his  father  had  given  him  a  book; 
and  he  repeated,  word  for  word,  what  his  fa- 
ther had  written  at  the  beginning  of  this 
book. 

To  all  this  the  lady  listened  with  a  smil- 
ing countenance;  and  Prank  was  going  on 
talking  about  himself,  when  his  mother 
catne  out  of  the  room  at  the  back  of  the 
shop ;  and  she  called  Frank,  and  took  him 
home  with  her. 

The  next  day,  his  mother,  who  usually  let 
frank  read  to  her  a  little  every  day,  told  him 
that  he  might  bring  his  book  to  her  and  read  ; 
but  he  made  several  mistakes,  and  his  mother 
said,  "  Frank,  you  are  not  minding  what  you 
are  about  this  morning." 

Frank  read  on,  more  carefully  ;  and  when 
he  had  read  about  half  a  page  without 
making  any  mistake,  he  stopped  short,  and 
said  to  his  mother,  "But,  mamma,  you  do 
not  praise  me  as  the  lady  in  the  shop  did." 

"  I  do  not  flatter  you,  my  dear,"  said  his 
mother. 

"  What  is  flattering  me,  mamma  ?" 

"  Flattering  you,  my  dear,  is  praising  you 
more  than  you  deserve  to  be  praised." 

"  Did  the  lady  in  the  shop  flatter  me, 
mamma?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  for  I  was  not  by ;  I  did 
not  hear  what  she  said." 


90  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  She  said  — I  feel,  mamma,  I  do  not  know 
why,  ashamed  to  tell  you  all  she  said  to  me. 
She  said  I  was  a  charming  little  creature,  and 
that  I  was  the  finest  boy  she  had  ever  seen 
in  her  life ;  and  she  said  I  was  a  very  clever 
little  boy  indeed,  when  I  read  something 
Eibout  sarsnets  and  modes,  that  was  printed 
on  a  paper  in  which  she  was  rolling  up  some 
riband  ;  and  when  I  repeated  the  verses  to 
her,  mamma,  she  said  she  never  heard  any 
thing  so  well  repeated  in  her  life." 

"  And  did  you  believe  all  this,  Frank  ?  " 

"  Not  quite,  mamma.  I  made  some  mis- 
takes when  I  was  repeating  the  verses ;  and 
she  did  not  take  notice  of  that." 

"And  did  you  understand  what  you  read 
about  sarsnets  and  modes  ?  " 

"  O  mamma,  I  was  sure  you  would  ask 
that  question !  How  came  it  that  the  lady 
never  asked  me  that  ?  And  there  was  some- 
thing about  fashionable  assortment.  She 
kissed  me  for  reading  that ;  and  all  the  time  1 
did  not-understand  those  words.  When  you 
kiss  me  and  praise  me,  mamma,  I  feel  quite 
sure  that  I  have  done  something  well,  or 
good ;  I  know  what  you  are  pleased  with  me 
for ;  but  I  did  not  know  exactly  why  that 
lady  was  so  much  pleased  with  me ;  do  you 
know,  mamma  ? " 

"  No,  my  dear ;  and  I  am  not  sure  that  she 
was  much  pleased  with  you." 

"  O  yes,  mamma,  I  think  she  really  was 


FRANK.  yj 

very  much  pleased  with  me,  though  she  was 
a  foolish  woman,  and  did  not  know  why." 

"  Did  not  know  why  she  was  a  foolish 
woman,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"No,  mamma,  but  did  not  know  why  she 
was  pleased  with  me." 

"  In  that  respect,"  said  his  mother,  laugh- 
ing, "it  seems  that  you  were  as  foolish  as 
she  was." 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  why  are 
you  not  quite  sure  that  she  liked  me  ?  " 

"  Because,  my  dear,  I  have  often  heard 
people  tell  children  that  they  were  sweet 
creatures,  and  charming  dears,  and  clever  fel- 
lows ;  and  I  have  observed  that  these  people 
forget  the  charming  dears  as  soon  as  they  are 
out  of  sight." 

"  You  and  my  father  never  do  so ;  do 
you?  " 

"Never." 

"  I  had  rather  that  you  and  papa  should 
praise  me,  and  like  me,  than  the  lady  I  saw 
in  the  shop.  I  think  I  was  very  foolish  to 
tell  her  what  my  father  wrote  in  my  booK, 
because  she  did  not  care  about  it,  I  suppose." 

"  You  will  be  wiser  another  time,"  said 
his  mother.  "  Now  put  on  your  hat,  and  let 
us  go  to  look  at  the  bees  at  work  in  the 
glass  bee-hive." 

They  went  to  the  old  woman's  cottage ; 
and  the  little  boy  opened  the  garden-gate ; 
and  Frank  went  to  the  bee-hive,  to  observe 
9 


98  EARLY    LESSONS. 

the  bees,  whilst  his  mother  sat  down  in  tha 
arbor,  and  took  a  book  out  of  her  pocket,  in 
which  she  read  for  some  time.  It  entertain- 
ed Frank  more,  to-day,  to  look  at  the  bees, 
than  it  did  the  first  morning  he  came  to  look 
at  them,  because  he  saw  more  distinctly 
what  they  were  doing.  And  when  he  had 
attended  to  the  bees  as  long  as  he  liked,  he 
went  to  the  arbor,  where  his  mother  was  sit- 
ting, and  he  asked  her  whether  he  might  go 
and  talk  to  the  little  boy,  who  was  now 
weeding  in  the  garden. 

His  mother  said  that  she  would  rather  that 
he  should  not  talk  to  this  little  boy  ;  but  she 
went  to  him  herself,  and  thanked  him  for 
letting  Frank  look  at  his  bee-hive ;  and  she 
told  him  that  if  he  would  come  to  her  house, 
she  would  give  him  a  pair  of  strong  shoes, 
which  she  had  had  made  him. 

Then  she  took  Frank  by  the  hand,  and 
went  to  the  cottage. 

Somebody  was  talking  to  the  old  woman, 
very  eagerly,  about  washing  a  gown. 

The  person  who  was  talking  was  a  maid- 
servant ;  and  she  had  a  muslin  gown  in  her 
hand,  which  she  said  her  mistress  had  de- 
sired her  to  take  to  be  washed. 

This  old  woman  was  a  washerwoman. 

"  Look  here  !  "  said  the  maid,  showing  the 
bottom  of  the  muslin  gown,  on  which  there 
were  the  marks  of  shoes,  which  had  trodden 
upon  it,  and  on  which  there  was  the  mark  of 


FRANK.  99 

a  large  hole,  that  had  been  mended.  "  Look 
here :  what  a  piece  of  work  I  have  had  this 
morning  !  Yesterday  my  mistress  came  home 
with  her  gown  torn  and  dirtied  in  this  man- 
ner ;  and  she  told  me  it  was  all  done  by  a 
little  mischievous,  troublesome,  conceited 
brat  of  a  boy,  that  she  met  with  in  the  mil- 
liner's shop  at  — •• — ,  where  she  was  yes- 
terday." 

Whilst  the  maid  was  saying  this,  she  did 
not  see  Frank  nor  his  mother ;  for  her  back 
was  turned  towards  the  door  through  which 
they  came. 

"  O  mamma  !  "  cried  Frank,  "  I  remember 
that  was  the  gown  the  lady  had  on  who 
called  me  a  charming  little  fellow,  and  who 
praised  I  mean  the  other  word,  flattered  me 
so  much  ;  but  now  she  calls  me  a  little  mis- 
chievous, troublesome,  conceited  brat,  only 
because  I  trod  upon  her  gown  by  accident, 
and  tore  it.  I  did  not  know  I  had  torn  it.  I 
remember  I  caught  my  foot  in  it,  when  you 
called  me  to  come  away  with  you,  mamma. 
If  I  had  torn  or  dirtied  your  gown,  I  do  not 
think  you  would  have  been  so  angry  with 
me.  The  next  time  any  body  begins  to  flat- 
ter me,  and  to  tell  me  that  I  am  a  charming 
little  dear,  I  shall  recollect  all  this,  and  I 
shall  not  repeat  my  verses,  nor  tell  them 
what  papa  wrote  in  my  book." 


100  EA.KLY    LESSONS. 

Frank,  who  had  seen  the  little  boy  to 
whom  the  bee-hive  belonged  weeding  the 
beds  in  the  garden,  said  to  his  mother  one 
morning,  "  I  should  like  to  try  to  weed  some 
of  the  borders  in  your  garden,  as  that  little 
boy  weeds  the  beds  in  his  grandmother's 
garden." 

Frank's  mother  said  that  he  might  weed 
one  of  the  borders  in  her  garden ;  and  she 
lent  him  a  little  hoe ;  and  he  went  to  work, 
and  weeded  a  piece  of  the  border  very  care- 
fully ;  and  his  mother  looked  at  it,  when  he 
had  done,  and  said  that  it  was  very  well 
done. 

The  same  day,  at  dinner,  Frank's  father 
gave  him  a  bit  of  cheese ;  and  his  mother 
was  surprised  to  see  Frank  take  this  cheese 
off  his  plate,  and  put  it  betwixt  his  fore  finger 
and  his  middle  finger  ;  then  he  took  a  piece 
of  bread,  and  stuck  it  betwixt  his  middle 
finger  and  his  fourth  finger ;  and  then  he 
took  a  large  mouthful  of  the  cheese,  and  a 
large  mouthful  of  the  bread,  so  that  his  mouth 
was  filled  in  a  very  disagreeable  manner. 

"  Pray,  Frank,"  said  his  mother,  "  what 
are  you  about?  " 

Frank's  mouth  was  not  empty  for  nearly  a 
minute ;  and  he  could  make  no  answer. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  this  new  method  of 
eating  bread  and  cheese?  " 

"  Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  I  saw  the  little 
boy,  in  the  cottage,  eating  his  bread  and 


FKANK.  101 

cheese,  after  he  had  done  weeding ;  and  he 
ate  it  just  in  this  way." 

"  And  why  should  you  eat  in  that  way, 
because  you  saw  him  do  so  ?  " 

"  Mamma,  I  thought  you  liked  that  little 
boy;  I  thought  he  was  a  very  good  boy. 
Do  not  you  remember  his  bringing  me  back 
the  bunch  of  ripe  cherries,  that  I  dropped  ? 
You  called  him  an  honest  little  fellow  ;  and 
do  not  you  remember  that  he  has  been  very 
good-natured  in  telling  us  all  he  knew  about 
bees,  and  in  letting  me  look  at  his  glass  bee- 
hive ?  And  you  know,  mamma,  this  morn- 
ing, you  said,  when  you  saw  him  at  work, 
that  he  was  very  industrious ;  did  not  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did.  I  think  he  is  very  industri- 
ous, and  that  he  was  good-natured,  in  letting 
you  look  at  his  glass  bee-hive  ;  and  honest, 
in  returning  to  you  the  bunch  of  ripe  cher- 
ries which  you  dropped  ;  but  what  has  all 
this  to  do  with  his  method  of  eating  bread 
and  cheese  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  mamma,"  said  Frank, 
after  thinking  a  little  while.  "  Nothing  to 
do  with  it  !  But  I  thought  you  would  be 
pleased  to  see  me  do  every  thing  like  him, 
because  you  were  pleased  this  morning, 
when  you  saw  me  weeding  like  him." 

"  You  may  weed  like  him,"  said  Frank's 
mother,  "  without  eating  like  him  ;  he  weeds 
well;  but  he  eats  disagreeably.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  see  you  as  honest,  and  as  good-na- 


102  EARLY    LESSONS. 

tared,  and  as  industrious,  as  he  is ;  but  I 
should  be  sorry  to  see  you  imitate  his  man- 
ner of  eating,  because  that  is  disagreeable. 
Sensible  people  do  not  imitate  every  thing 
which  they  see  others  do ;  they  imitate  only 
what  is  useful  or  agreeable." 

Frank  took  the  bread  and  cheese  from  be- 
twixt his  fore  finger  and  middle  finger,  and 
from  between  his  middle  finger  and  his  fourth 
finger ;  and  he  put  the  cheese  upon  his 
plate,  and  did  not  any  longer  imitate  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  seen  the  little  boy, 
in  the  cottage,  cram  his  mouth. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear,"  said  Frank's  father. 
"  of  the  manner  in  which  apes  are  sometimes 
caught? " 

"No.  papa." 

"Apes  are  apt  to  imitate  every  thing 
which  they  see  done  ;  and  they  cannot,  as 
you  can,  Frank,  distinguish  what  is  useful 
and  agreeable  from  what  is  useless  or  disa- 
greeable ;  they  imitate  every  thing  without 
reflecting.  Men  who  want  to  catch  these 
apes,  go  under  the  trees  in  which  the 
apes  live  ;  and  the  men  take  with  them 
basins,  with  water  in  them,  in  which  they 
wash  their  own  hands ;  they  rub  their  hands, 
and  wash,  for  some  time,  till  they  perceive  that 
the  apes  are  looking  at  them  ;  then  the  men 
go  away,  and  carry  with  them  the  basins  of 
water  ;  and  they  leave  under  the  trees  large, 
heavy,  wooden  basins,  filled  with  pitch :  you 


FRANK.  103 

have  seen  pitch,  Frank  ;  you  know  that  it  is 
a  very  sticky  substance.  The  apes,  as  soon 
as  the  men  are  out  of  sight,  come  down  from 
the  trees,  and  go  to  the  basins,  to  wash  their 
hands,  in  imitation  of  the  men.  The  apes 
dip  their  hands  into  the  pitch;  and  the  pitch 
sticks  to  their  hairy  hands ;  and  the  apes 
cannot  draw  their  hands  out  of  the  pitch. 
Now,  these  animals  usually  run  upon  all- 
fours." 

"  All-fours,  papa !  "  interrupted  Frank  : 
"  how  is  that  ?  " 

"As  you  run  upon  your  hands  and  feet, 

upon  the  carpet,  sometimes. The  apes 

cannot  run  well,  for  want  of  their  hands,  and 
because  the  wooden  bowls,  which  stick  to 
their  hands,  are  so  heavy.  The  men  who 
left  these  bowls  come  back,  and  find  the 
apes  caught  in  this  manner." 

"  I  think  these  apes  are  very  foolish  ani- 
mals," said  Frank. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  his  father;  "no animals  are 
wise,  who  imitate  what  they  see  done,  with- 
out considering  the  reason  why  it  is  done." 


Frank  asked  his  mother  if  she  would  take 
him  again  to  the  cottage  garden,  to  see  the 
bees  at  work  in  the  glass  bee-hive  ;  but  hi? 
mother  answered,  "  I  am  afraid  to  take  you 
there  again,  till  I  am  sure  that  you  will  not 
imitate  the  little  boy  in  every  thing  which 
you  see  him  do  ;  for  instance " 


104  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  O  mamma!  "  said  Frank,  "  I  know  what 
you  are  going  to  say.  But  to-day,  at  dinner, 
you  shall  see  that  I  will  not  eat  in  that  disa- 
greeable way." 

His  mother  attended  to  him  several  days  ; 
and  when  she  observed  that  he  did  not  imi- 
tate this  boy  any  more  in  his  manner  of  eat- 
ing, she  took  him  again  to  the  cottage. 

The  old  woman  was  spinning  ;  and  Frank 
stopped  to  look  at  her  spinning-wheel  ;  and 
he  asked  his  mother  what  was  the  use  of 
wnat  the  old  woman  was  doing. 

She  told  him  that  the  woman  was  twisting 
a  kind  of  coarse  thread,  called  yarn,  and  that 
her  spinning-wheel  was  a  machine  which 
helped  her  to  do  this  quickly.  His  mother 
then  asked  Frank,  whether  he  knew  where 
the  thread  came  from. 

"  No,  mamma,"  said  Frank. 

"It  comes  from  a  plant  called  flax,  my 
dear,"  said  his  mother  ;  "  I  think  you  went 
with  me,  last  summer,  through  a  field  in 
which  you  saw  flax.  You  took  notice  of  its 
pretty  blue  flowers." 

Frank  said  that  he  did  remember  this ;  but 

that  he  could  not  imagine  how  the  thread 

which    he    saw    upon   the    spinning-wheel, 

could  come  from  that  green  plant  with  the 

•blue  flowers. 

His  mother  told  him  that  she  would  show 
him,  whenever  she  had  an  opportunity, 

The  old  woman,  who  was  spinning,  told 


FRANK.  105 

Frank's  mother,  that  a  neighbor  of  hers  was 
tliis  very  day  hackling  some  flax,  and  that,  if 
she  liked  to  let  Frank  see  how  it  was  done, 
she  would  show  her  to  the  house  where  her 
neighbor  lived. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  what  is  meant  by 
hackling  flax,"  said  Frank. 

"  Then  come  with  us,  and  you  shall  see," 
said  his  mother. 

Frank  followed  his  mother  to  another  cot- 
tage, where  he  saw  a  woman  beating,  with 
the  edge  of  a  thin  bit  of  wood,  something 
which,  he  thought,  looked  a  little  like  very 
yellow,  dry  hay;  but  his  mother  told  him 
that  this  was  flax. 

As  the  woman  beat  it,  a  great  deal  of  dust 
and  dirt  fell  out  of  it,  upon  the  ground  ; 
and  by  degrees,  the  flax  which  she  held  in 
her  hand  looked  cleaner  and  cleaner,  and 
finer  and  finer,  till  at  last  it  looked  like  yel- 
low hair. 

"But,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "the  flax 
which  I  saw  last  summer,  growing  in  a  field 
near  this  house,  had  long  green  stalks,  and 
blue  flowers ;  and  I  saw  no  yellow  threads 

like    these. Is    this  a  different    kind  of 

flax  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,  this  is  the  same  flax.  The 
blue  flowers  have  withered  and  died." 

When  the  blue  flowers  began  to  wither, 
the  woman  pulled  up  all  the  green  stalks,  and 
bound  them  together  in  bundles,  and  put 


106  EARLY    LESSONS. 

these  bundles  under  water,  in  a  ditch,  where 
she  loft  them  for  about  a  fortnight ;  during 
ihis  time,  the  green  outside  of  the  stalk  de- 
cayed, and  the  stringy  part  remained ;  she 
then  untied  the  bundles,  and  spread  them 
out,  near  a  fire,  to  dry ;  and  then  she  brought 
the  flax  home.  "  And  this,"  said  she,  show- 
ing Prank  a  bit  of  the  flax,  which  the  wo- 
man had  not  yet  beaten  and  cleaned,  "  this  is 
the  flax,  as  it  looks  after  it  has  been  soaked 
in  water,  and  dried." 

"And  what  is  going  to  be  done  to  it  now, 
mamma  ? "  said  Frank,  who  observed  that 
the  woman  was  now  placing  two  small  boards 
before  her,  on  which  were  stuck,  with  their 
points  upright,  several  rows  of  steel  pins ; 
their  points  were  as  sharp  as  needles. 

"I  am  going  to  hackle  the  flax,  master," 
said  the  woman  ;  and  she  began  to  comb  the 
flax  with  these  steel  combs  ;  she  drew  the 
flax  through  the  pins,  several  times.  The 
board,  into  which  the  pins  were  stuck,  was 
fastened  upon  the  table ;  and,  as  the  woman 
drew  the  flax  through  the  pins,  it  was  disen- 
tangled, and  combed  smooth. 

"Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "it  is  just  like 
combing  hair  out,  only  the  woman  does  not 
move  the  comb,  but  she  draws  the  hair  —  the 
flax,  I  mean  —  through  it." 

The  pins  in  one  of  the  boards  were 
much  smaller,  and  placed  closer  together, 
than  those  in  the  other  board. 


FRANK. 


107 


•'  This  is  the  large  comb,  and  this  is  the 
small-tooth  comb,  mamma,"  said  Frank. 

And  when  the  flax  had  been  drawn 
through  these  fine  pins,  there  was  not  a 
tangle  left  in  it ;  and  it  looked  smooth,  bright, 
and  shining,  and  of  a  light,  yellow  color. 

Frank's  mother  showed  him  that  this 
looked  the  same  as  what  he  had  seen  on  the 
old  woman's  spinning-wheel. 

They  went  back  to  the  spinning-wheel  ; 
and  the  old  woman  sat  down,  and  spun  a 
little  ;  and  Frank  saw  that  the  threads  of  the 

flax  were  twisted  together He  did  not 

exactly  know  how ;  and  his  mother  told  him 


108  EARLY    LESSONS. 

he  must  not  expect  to  find  out  how  it  was 
done,  by  looking  at  it  for  a  few  minutes. 

Frank  said,  "  Mamma,  I  feel  tired  ;  my 
eyes  are  tired  of  looking  ;  and  I  am  tired  with 
thinking  about  this  spinning-wheel." 

"  Then  do  not  think  any  more  about  it 
now;  go,  and  run  about  the  garden;"  and 
Frank  ran  into  the  garden ;  and  he  jumped 
and  sang ;  and  then  he  listened  to  the  birds, 
who  were  singing ;  and  he  smelled  the 
flowers,  particularly  rosemary  and  balm, 
which  he  had  never  smelled  before  ;  and  he 
heard  the  humming  of  bees  near  him,  as  he 
was  smelling  to  the  rosemary ;  and  he  recol- 
lected that  he  had  not  looked  at  the  bees 
this  day  ;  so  he  ran  to  the  glass  bee-hive,  and 
watched  them  working. 

And  afterwards  he  ran  back  to  his  mother, 
and  said,  "lam  quite  rested  now,  mamma 

1  mean,  I  do  not  feel  tired  of  thinking 

about  the  spinning-wheel.  May  I  look  at 
the  woman  spinning  again  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  my  dear." 

Frank  went  into  the  cottage,  and  looked  at 
the  old  woman,  who  was  spinning. 

"  Would  you  like  to  try  to  spin  a  bit, 
dear  ?  "  said  the  old  woman. 

"  Yes,  I  should,"  said  Frank  ;  "  it  looks  as 
if  it  was  very  easy  to  do  it ;  but  perhaps  it  is 
not ;  for  I  remember,  I  could  not  plane  with 
the  carpenter's  plane,  though  it  seemed  very 
easy  when  he  was  doing  it." 


FRANK.  109 

Frank  tried  to  spin ;  but  he  broke  the 
thread,  almost  at  the  first  trial ;  however,  the 
old  woman  clapped  her  hands,  and  said, 
''That's  a  pretty  dear!  —  He  spins  as  well 
as  I  do,  I  declare  ! " 

"O,  no,  no,  no,"  said  Frank  ;  "I  know  I 
cannot  spin  at  all  ;  "  and  he  looked  ashamed, 
and  left  the  spinning-wheel,  and  turned  away 
from  the  old  woman,  and  went  back  to  his 
mother. 

She  walked  home  with  him  ;  and,  as  they 
were  walking  home,  his  mother  said  to  him  : 

"  Do  you  know  why  you  came  back  just 
now,  Frank  ? " 

"  Yes,  mamma ;  because  the  woman  called 
me  pretty  dear,  and  told  me  that  I  could  spin 
as  well  as  she  could  ;  and  you  know  I  could 
not  ;  so  that  was  flattering  me  ;  and  I  do  not 
like  people  that  flatter  me.  I  remember  the 
lady  in  the  shop,  who  flattered  me,  and  after- 
wards called  me  a  mischievous  brat ;  but  I 
do  not  much  like  to  think  of  that.  Mamma, 
of  what  use  is  that  brown  thread  which  the 
old  woman  made  of  the  flax  ?  " 

"  Of  that  brown  thread,  linen  is  made, 
my  dear." 

"  But  linen  is  white,  mamma  ;  how  is  the 
brown  thread  made  white  ?  " 

"  It  is  left  in  a  place  where  the  sun  shines 
upon  it ;  and  there  are  other  ways  of  making 
linen  white,  which  I  cannot  now  explain  to 
you.  Making  linen  white,  is  called  bleach- 
ing it." 


110  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  Can  you  explain  to  me,  mamma,  how 
thread  is  made  into  linen?" 

"No,  my  dear,  I  cannot ;  but  perhaps  your 
father,  when  you  are  able  to  understand  it,  may 
show  you  how  people  weave  linen  in  a  loom." 


One  night,  when  Frank's  brother  Henry 
was  with  him,  they  were  talking  of  Henry's 
garden. 

Henry  said,  "  Next  spring,  I  intend  to  sow 
some  scarlet  runners,  or  French  beans,  in  my 
garden." 

"  Whereabouts  in  your  garden  ? "  said 
Frank.  Henry  tried  to  describe  to  him 
whereabouts;  but  Frank  could  not  under- 
stand him  ;  so  Henry  took  his  pencil  out  of 
his  pocket,  and  said,  "  Now,  Frank,  I  will 
draw  for  you  a  map  of  my  garden  ;  and  then 
you  will  understand  it." 

He  drew  the  shape  of  his  garden  upon 
paper;  and  he  marked  where  all  the  little 
walks  went,  and  where  the  rose-bush  stood, 
and  where  the  sally-fence  was  ;  and  he  drew 
all  the  borders,  and  printed  upon  each  of  the 
borders  the  name  of  what  was  planted  there 
when  Frank  last  saw  it. 
.  Frank,  after  he  had  looked  at  this  drawing 
for  a  little  while,  understood  it,  and  saw  the 
exact  spot  in  which  Henry  intended  to  sow 
his  scarlet  runners. 


FRANK.  Ill 

"  So  this  is  what  you  call  a  map,"  said 
Frank;  "but  it  is  not  like  the  maps  in 
papa's  study." 

"  They  are  maps  of  countries,  not  little 
gardens,"  said  Henry. 

"  I  suppose  they  are  of  the  same  use  to  oth- 
er people,  that  the  little  map  of  your  garden 
was  to  me  ;  to  show  them  whereabouts  places 
are.  But,  Henry,  what  are  those  odd-shaped, 
crooked  bits  of  wood,  which  hook  into  one 
another,  and  which  I  thought  you  called  a 
map  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  map,  pasted  upon  wood  ;  and 
the  shapes  of  the  different  places  are  cut  out 
through  the  paper  and  through  the  wood  ;  arid 
then  they  can  be  joined  together  again,  exact- 
ly the  same  shape  that  they  were  in  at  first." 

"I  don't  understand  how  you  mean,"  said 
Frank. 

Henry  cut  out  the  different  beds  and 
walks,  in  the  little  map  which  he  had  drawn 
of  his  garden  ;  and  when  he  had  separated 
the  parts,  he  threw  them  down  upon  the 
table,  before  Frank,  and  asked  him  to  try  if 
he  could  put  them  together  again,  as  they 
were  before. 

After  some  trials,  Frank  did  join  them  all 
together ;  and  he  told  Henry  that  he  should 
very  much  like  to  try  to  put  his  wooden  map 
together,  and  that  he  would  be  very  much 
obliged  to  him,  if  lie  would  lend  it  to  him. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Henry,  "  to  lend  you 


112  EARLY    LESSONS. 

that  map,  lest  you  should  lose  any  of  the 
parts  of  it." 

"  I  will  not  lose  them,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  tried  every  day  for  a  week,"  said  Hen- 
ry, "  before  I  was  able  to  put  it  all  together  ; 
and  after  1  had  done  with  it  every  day,  I  put 
it  into  the  box  belonging  to  it ;  and  I  regu- 
larly counted  all  the  bits,  to  see  that  I  had 
them  right." 

"  I  will  count  them  every  day  before  I  put 
them  by,  if  you  will  lend  them  to  me,"  said 
Frank. 

"  If  you  will  promise  me  to  do  so,"  said 
Henry,  "I  will  lend  you  my  map  for  a 
week." 

Frank  was  eagerly  going  to  say,  "  Yes,  I 
will  promise  you,"  when  he  felt  a  hand  be- 
fore his  lips ;  it  was  his  mother's.  "  My 
dear  Frank,"  said  she,  in  a  serious  tone  of 
voice,  "  consider  before  you  ever  make  any 
promise.  No  persons  are  believed,  or  trusted, 
who  break  their  promises ;  you  are  very 
young,  Frank,  and  you  scarcely  know  what 
a  promise  means." 

"  I  think  I  know,  mamma,  what  this  prom- 
ise means,"  said  Frank. 

"  And  do  you  think  you  shall  be  able  to 
keep  your  promise  ?  " 

"Yes,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "I  hope  that 
I  shall." 

"  I  hope  so  too,  my  dear,"  said  his  moth- 
er j  "  for  I  would  rather  that  you  should  nev- 


FRANK.  113 

BY  put    that    map   together,    than    that   you 
should  make  a   promise  and  break  it." 

Frank  promised  Henry  that,  whenever  he 
took  the  map  out  of  the  box,  he  would  count 
the  pieces,  to  see  whether  he  had  the  right 
number,  before  he  put  them  again  into  the 
box. 

u  Remember,"  said  Frank,  "  I  do  not  prom- 
ise that  I  will  not  lose  any  of  the  pieces 
of  the  map ;  I  promise  only  to  count  them  ; 
but  I  hope  I  shall  not  lose  any  of  them." 

Henry  told  him  that  he  understood  very 
well  what  he  said ;  and  he  put  the  box  into 
his  hands. 

Frank  immediately  counted  the  pieces  of 
the  map.  It  was  a  map  of  England  and 
Wales  ;  and  there  were  fifty-two  pieces  ;  one 
to  represent  each  county. 

"  Fifty-two ;  fifty-two  ;  fifty-two  ;  "  repeat- 
ed Frank,  several  times  ;  "  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
forget  how  many  there  are." 

"Then,"    said    Henry,    "you    had   better 

write  it  down. Here  is  a  pencil  for  you  ; 

and  you  may  write  it  upon  the   lid  of  the 
box." 

Frank  wrote  a  two,  and  five  after  it. 

"  That  is  not  right,"  said  Henry ;  "  that  is 
twenty-five ;  and  you  know  that  there  are 
fifty-two." 

"Then,"  said  Frank,  "I  must  put  the  five 
to  my   left  hand,  and  the  two  to  my  right 
hand,  to  make  fifty-two.     Mamma,  1  did  not 
1C 


114  EARLY    LESSONS. 

understand  what  papa  told  me  once,  about 
the  place  of  units,  and  tens,  and  hundreds." 

"  Then  you  had  better  ask  him  to  explain 
it  to  you  again,  when  he  is  at  leisure  ;  for 
want  of  knowing  this,  when  you  were  to 
write  fifty-two,  you  wrote  twenty-five." 

"  That  was  a  great  mistake ;  but  papa  is 
busy  now,  and  cannot  explain  about  units 
and  tens  to  me  ;  therefore  I  will  put  the  map 
together,  if  I  can." 

Frank  could  not  put  the  map  together, 
the  first  night  that  he  tried,  nor  the  second 
day,  nor  the  third ;  but  he  regularly  remem- 
bered to  count  the  bits,  according  to  his  prom- 
ise, every  day  before  he  put  them  into  the 
box. 

One  day  he  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  go  out 
to  fly  his  kite  ;  but  all  the  pieces  of  the  map 
were  scattered  upon  the  carpet ;  and  he  staid 
to  count  them,  and  put  them  into  the  box, 
before  he  went  out. 

It  was  not  easy  to  get  them  into  the  box, 
which  was  just  large  enough  to  hold  them 
when  they  were  well  packed. 

The  lid  of  the  box  would  not  slide  into  its 
place  when  the  pieces  of  the  map  were  not 
put  in  so  as  to  lie  quite  flat. 

One  day  —  it  was  Friday  —  Frank  saw  his 
father  open  a  large  book,  in  which  there  were 
very  pretty  prints  of  houses  ;  and  he  was  ea- 
ger to  go  to  look  at  these  prints  ;  but  his  map- 
was  upon  the  table  j  and  he  thought  he  had 


FRANK.  115 

better  count  the  pieces,  and  put  them  into  the 
box,  before  he  went  to  look  at  the  prints,  lest 
lie  should  forget  to  do  it  afterwards ,  there- 
fore he  counted  them  as  fast  as  he  could. 
They  were  not  all  right.  Fifty-two  was  the 
number  that  had  been  lent  him ;  and  he  could 
not  find  but  fifty-one. 

He  searched  all  over  the  room ;  under  the 
tables ;  under  the  chairs ;  upon  the  sofa  ; 
under  the  cushions  of  the  sofa ;  under  the 
carpet ;  every  where  he  could  think  of.  The 
lost  bit  of  the  map  was  nowhere  to  be  found  ; 
and  whilst  he  was  searching,  his  father  turned 
over  all  the  leaves  in  the  book  of  prints, 
found  the  print  that  he  wanted,  then  shut 
the  book,  and  put  it  into  its  place,  in  the 
book-case. 

Frank  was  at  this  instant  crawling  from 
beneath  the  sofa,  where  he  had  been  feeling 
for  his  lost  county.  He  looked  up  and 
sighed  when  he  saw  the  book  of  pretty 
prints  shut,  and  put  up  into  the  book-case. 

"  O  papa  !  there  is  the  very  thing  I  have 
been  looking  for  all  this  time,"  cried  Frank, 
who  now  espied  the  bit  of  the  map  which  he 
had  missed  ;  it  was  lying  upon  the  table, 
and  the  book  of  prints  had  been  put  upon  it, 
so  that  Frank  never  could  see  it  till  the  book 
was  lifted  up. 

"  I  am  glad  I  have  found  you,  little  crook- 
ed county  of  Middlesex,"  said  Frank. 

"Now  I  have  them  all  right — fifty-two  " 


116  EARLY    LESSONS. 

The  next  morning  —  Saturday  —  the  lasi 
day  of  the  week  during  which  the  map  was 
lent  to  Frank,  he  spent  an  hour  and  a  half  * 
in  trying  to  put  it  together ;  and  at  last  he 
succeeded,  and  hooked  every  county,  even 
crooked  little  Middlesex,  into  its  right  place. 

He  was  much  pleased  to  see  the  whole 
map  fitted  together.  "  Look  at  it,  dear  mam- 
ma," said  he  ;  "  you  cannot  see  the  joining, 
it  fits  so  nicely." 

His  mother  was  just  come  to  look  at  his 
map,  when  they  heard  the  noise  of  several 
sheep  ba-a-ing  very  loud  near  the  windows. 
Frank  ran  to  the  window ;  and  he  saw  a 
large  flock  of  sheep,  passing  near  the  win- 
dow ;  a  man  and  two  women  were  driving 
them. 

"How  fat  they  look,  mamma!"  said 
Frank  ;  "  they  seem  as  if  they  could  hardly 
walk,  they  are  so  fat." 

"  They  have  a  great  deal  of  wool  upon 
their  backs." 

"  Mamma,  what  can  be  the  use  of  those 
large,  very  large,  scissors,  which  that  woman 
carries  in  her  hand  ?  " 

u  Those  large  scissors  are  called  shears  ; 
and  with  them  the  wool  will  be  cut  from  the 
backs  of  these  sheep." 

"  Will  it  hurt  the  sheep,  mamma,  to  cut 
their  wool  off? " 

*  A    boy    of  four   years    old   spent,   voluntarily,    above    a» 
hour  and  a  half  in  attempts  to  put  together  a  joining  map. 


FRANK.  117 

"  Not  at  all,  I  believe." 

"  I  should  like,  then,  to  see  it  done  ;  and  I 
should  like  to  touch  the  wool.  What  use  is 
made  of  wool,  mamma?  " 

"  Your  coat  is  made  of  wool,  my  dear." 

Frank  looked  surprised ;  and  he  was  going 

o  ask  how  wool  could  be  made  into  a  coat ; 

but  his  father  came  into  the  room,  and  asked 

him  if  he  should  like  to  go  with  him  to  see 

some  sheep  sheared. 

"  Yes,  very  much,  papa,  thank  you,"  said 
Frank,  jumping  down  from  the  chair  on 
which  he  stood. 

"  I  shall  be  ready  to  go  in  five  minutes," 
said  his  father. 

"  I  am  ready  this  minute,"  said  Frank  ;  "  I 
have  nothing  to  do,  but  to  get  my  hat,  and 
to  put  on  my  shoes."  But  just  as  he  got  to 
the  door,  he  recollected  that  he  had  left  Hen- 
ry's map  upon  the  floor ;  and  he  turned  back, 
and  was  going  hastily  to  put  it  into  the  box  ; 
but  he  then  recollected  his  promise  to  count 
the  pieces  every  day,  before  he  put  them  into 
the  box.  He  was  much  afraid  that  his  fa- 
ther should  be  ready  before  he  finished  count- 
ing them,  and  that  he  should  be  left  behind, 
and  should  not  see  the  sheep  sheared  ;  but  he 
kept  his  promise  exactly ;  he  counted  the 
fifty-two  pieces,  put  them  into  the  box,  and 
was  ready  the  instant  his  father  called  him. 

He  saw  the  wool  cut  off  the  backs  of  the 
sheep;  it  did  not  entertain  him  quite  so 


118  EARLY    LESSONS. 

much  as  he  had  expected,  to  see  this  done  ; 
but  when  he  returned  home,  he  was  very 
glad  to  meet  his  brother  Henry  in  the  even- 
ing ;  and  he  returned  the  box  of  maps  to 
him. 

"  Thank  you,  Henry,"  said  he  ;  "  here  is 
your  map,  safe.  Count  the  pieces,  and  you 
will  find  that  there  are  fifty-two.  And  I 
have  kept  my  promise  ;  I  have  counted  them 
every  day,  before  I  put  them  into  the  box. 
My  mother  saw  me  count  them  every  day." 

"  I  am  glad,  Frank,  that  you  have  kept 
your  promise,"  said  Henry,  and  his  mother, 
and  his  father,  all  at  once ;  and  they  looked 
pleased  with  him. 

His  father  took  down  the  book  of  pretty 
prints,  and  put  it  into  Frank's  hands. 

"  I  will  lend  you  this  book  for  a  week," 
said  his  father ;  "  you  may  look  at  all  the 
prints  in  it ;  I  can  trust  you  with  it ;  for  I 
saw  that  you  took  care  of  Henry's  map, 
which  was  lent  to  you." 

Frank  opened  the  book,  and  he  saw,  upon 
the  first  page,  the  print  of  the  front  of  a  house. 

"  The  reason  I  wished  to  look  at  this  book 
so  much,"  said  Frank,  "  was,  because  I 
thought  I  saw  prints  of  houses  in  it ;  and  I 
am  going  to  build  a  house  in  my  garden." 

"You  have  kept  your  promise  so  well," 
said  Henry,  "  about  the  map,  that  I  will  lend 
you  what  I  would  not  lend  to  any  body 
that  I  could  not  trust ;  I  will  lend  you  my 


FRANK.  119 

box  full  of  little  bricks,  if  you  will  not  take 
them  out  of  doors,  nor  wet  them." 

Frank  said  that  he  would  not  either  tako 
them  out  of  doors  or  wet  them. 

And  Henry  believed  that  Frank  would  do 
what  he  said  that  he  would  do,  because  he 
had  kept  his  promise  exactly  in  respect  to 
the  map. 

Frank  received  the  box  full  of  little  bricks, 
with  a  joyful  countenance ;  and  his  mother 
gave  him  leave  to  build  with  them  in  the 
room  in  which  he  slept. 

Henry  showed  him  how  to  break  the 
joints,  in  building  —  how  to  build  walls  and 
arches.  And  Frank  was  happy  in  building 
different  sorts  of  buildings,  and  staircases, 
and  pillars,  and  towers,  and  arches,  with  the 
little  bricks  which  were  lent  to  him.  And 
he  kept  his  promise  not  to  wet  them,  and 
not  to  take  them  out  of  doors. 

11  It  is  a  good  thing  to  keep  one's  prom- 
ise," said  his  mother  :  "  people  are  trusted 
who  keep  their  promises  —  trusted  even  with 
little  bricks."  * 

*  These  little  bricks  were  made  of  plaster  of  Paris ;  they 
were  exactly  twice  as  long  as  they  were  broad,  and  twice 
as  broad  as  they  were  thick.  Two  inches  and  a  quarter  long  is 
a  convenient  length,  being  one  quarter  of  the  length  of  a  com- 
mon brick.  Common  bricks  are  not  exactly  in  the  proportion 
above  mentioned,  as  there  is  generally  allowance  made  for  mor- 
tar. A  few  lintels  of  wood,  the  depth  and  breadth  of  a  brick 
and  twelve  inches  and  three  quarters  long,  will  be  found  very 
convenient;  these  should  be  painted  exactly  to  match  th» 
color  of  the  bricks. 


120  EARLY    LESSONS. 

It  was  autumn.  The  leaves  withered,  and 
fell  from  the  trees ;  and  the  paths  in  the 
grove  were  strewed  with  the  red  leaves  o. 
the  beech-trees. 

Little  Frank  swept  away  the  leaves  in  his 
mother's  favorite  walk  in  the  grove  :  it  was 
his  morning's  work  to  make  this  walk  quite 
clean ;  and  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  he 
slid  down  from  his  chair ;  and  he  went  to 
his  mother,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  walk 
out  this  evening  in  the  grove. 

"I  think,"  said  his  mother,  "  it  is  now  too 
late  in  the  year  to  walk  after  dinner;  the  even- 
ings are  cold  ;  and " 

"O  mamma!"  interrupted  Frank,  "pray 
walk  out  this  one  evening.  Look !  the  sun 
has  not  set  yet  ;  look  at  the  pretty  red  sun- 
shine upon  the  tops  of  the  trees.  Several  of 
the  trees  in  the  grove  have  leaves  upon 
them  still,  mamma  •  and  I  have  swept  away 
all  the  withered  leaves  that  were  strewed 
upon  your  path.  Will  you  come  and  look 
at  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Since  you  have  swept  my  path,  and  have 
taken  pains  to  oblige  me,"  said  his  mother, 
"  I  will  walk  with  you,  Frank.  People 
should  not  always  do  just  what  they  like 
best  themselves ;  they  should  be  sometimes 
ready  to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  their 
friends  ;  so,  Frank,  I  will  comply  with  your 
wish,  and  walk  to  the  grove." 

His  mother  found  it  a  more  pleasant  even- 


FRANK.  121 

ing  than  she  had  expected ;  and  the  walk 
in  the  grove  was  sheltered ;  and  she  thanked 
Frank  for  having  swept  it. 

The  wind  had  blown  a  few  leaves  from 
one  of  the  heaps  which  he  had  made  ;  and  he 
ran  on  before  his  mother,  to  clear  them  away. 
But  as  he  stooped  to  brush  away  one  of  the 
leaves,  he  saw  a  caterpillar,  which  was  so 
nearly  the  color  of  the  faded  green  leaf  upon 
which  it  lay,  that  he,  at  first  sight,  mistook  it 
for  a  part  of  the  leaf.  It  stuck  to  the  leaf, 
and  did  not  move  in  the  least,  even  when 
Frank  touched  it.  He  carried  it  to  his  moth- 
er, and  asked  her  if  she  thought  that  it  was 
dead,  or  if  she  knew  what  was  the  matter 
with  it. 

"  I  believe,  my  dear,"  said  his  mother, 
"  that  this  caterpillar  will  soon  turn  into  a 
chrysalis." 

"  Chry what,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Chrysalis." 

"  What  is  a  chrysalis  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  describe  it  to  you ;  but  if  you 
keep  this  caterpillar  a  few  days,  you  will  see 
what  I  mean  by  a  chrysalis." 

u  I  will.  But  how  do  you  know,  mamma, 
that  a  caterpillar  will  turn  into  a  chrysalis  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  caterpillars  that  have  turned 
into  chrysalises  ;  and  I  have  heard  that  they 
do  so,  from  many  other  people,  who  have 
seen  it ;  and  I  have  read,  in  books,  accounts 
of  caterpillars  that  have  turned  into  chry sa- 
il 


122  EAKLY    LESSONS. 

lises  ;  and  this  is  the  time  of  year  in  which, 
as  it  has  been  observed,  this  change  usually 
happens." 

"  But,  my  dear  mother,"  said  Frank, 
"  may  I  keep  this  caterpillar  in  my  red  box  ? 
And  what  shall  I  give  it  to  eat  ?  " 

"  You  need  not  give  it  any  thing  to  eat ; 
for  it  will  not  eat  whilst  it  is  in  this  state  ; 
and  you  may  keep  this  caterpillar  in  your 
box ;  it  will  soon  become  a  chrysalis ;  and, 
in  the  spring,  a  rnoth,  or  butterfly,  will  come 
out  of  the  chrysalis." 

Frank  looked  much  surprised  at  hearing 
this  ;  and  he  said  that  he  would  take  great 
care  tif  the  caterpillar,  and  that  he  would 
watch  it,  that  he  might  see  all  these  curious 
changes. 

"  Who  was  the  first  person,  mamma,  that 
ever  observed  that  a  caterpillar  turned  into  a 
chrysalis,  and  a  chrysalis  into  a  butterfly?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear." 

"  Mamma,  perhaps,  if  I  observe,  I  may  find 
out  things,  as  well  as  other  people." 

"  Yes,  very  likely  you  may." 

"  Mamma,  how  did  the  person  who  wrote 
about  animals,  in  my  book  that  my  father  gave 
me,  find  out  all  that  he  knew  ?  " 

"  Partly  from  reading  other  books,  and 
partly  from  observing  animals  himself." 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  how  did  the 
people,  who  wrote  the  other  books,  know  all 
the  things  that  are  told  in  them  ?  " 


FRANK.  123 

"  By  observing,"  said  his  mother.  "  Dif- 
ferent people,  in  different  places,  observed  dif- 
ferent animals,  and  wrote  the  histories  of 
those  animals." 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  they  did.  Did  they 
ever  make  mistakes,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that  they  did  make  a  great 
many  mistakes." 

"  Then  every  thing  that  is  in  books  is  not 
true  ;  is  it  ?  " 

"No." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.  But  how  shall  I 
know  what  is  true,  and  what  is  not  true,  in 
books,  mamma  ?  " 

"  You  cannot  always  find  out  what  is  true, 
and  what  is  not  true,  in  books,  till  you  have 
more  knowledge,  my  dear." 

"And  how  shall  I  get  more  knowledge, 
mamma?  " 

"  By  observing  whatever  you  see,  and  hear, 
and  feel ;  and  trying  experiments." 

"  Experiments^  mamma  !  Papa,  and  grown 
up,  wise  people,  try  experiments  ;  but  I  did 
not  know  that  such  a  little  boy  as  I  am  could 
try  experiments." 

Frank  and  his  mother  had  walked  on,  whilst 
they  were  talking,  till  they  came  to  a  path 
which  led  to  the  river  side. 

A  little  girl  was  by  the  river  side,  dipping 
a  yellow  earthen  jug  into  the  ...water. 

The  girl  did  not  perceive  Frank  and  his 
mother,  who  were  corning  behind  her,  till  she 


124 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


heard  Frank's  voice,  which  startled  her  ;  and 
she  let  the  pitcher  fall  from  her  hand,  and  it 
broke. 

The  girl  looked  very  sorry  that  she  had 
broken  the  jug ;  but  a  woman,  who  was 
standing  beside  her,  said,  "  It  is  no  great 
misfortune,  Mary  ;  for  we  can  take  it  home, 
and  tie  it  together,  and  boil  it  in  milk,  and  it 
will  be  as  good  as  ever." 

"  My  dear  mother,"  cried  Frank  ;  "  then  we 
can  mend  the  broken  flower-pot.  Shall  we 
do  it,  as  soon  as  we  get  home  ?  " 


FRANK.  125 

"  We  can  try  to  do  it  as  soon  as  we  go 
home." 

"  Try,  mamma  !  But  are  you  not  sure  it 
will  do?  That  woman  said  the  jug  would 
be  as  good  as  ever,  if  it  was  tied  together,  and 
boiled  in  milk." 

"  Yes  ;  but  she  may  be  mistaken.  We  had 
better  try  the  experiment  ourselves." 

"  Is  that  called  trying  an  experiment  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  this  is  an  experiment  we  can  try." 

When  they  got  home,  Frank's  mother  rang 
the  bell,  and  asked  to  have  a  clean  saucepan 
brought  up  stairs  ;  and  when  the  saucepan 
was  brought  to  her,  she  tied  the  pieces  of  the 
broken  flower-pot  together,  with  pack-thread, 
in  the  same  shape  that  it  was  before  it  was 
broken.  She  put  the  flower-pot  into  the 
saucepan ;  and  she  poured  over  it  as  much 
milk  as  entirely  covered  it ;  and  after  she  had 
put  the  saucepan  on  the  fire,  she  waited  till 
the  milk  boiled ;  then  she  took  the  saucepan 
off  the  fire  ;  and  she  waited  till  the  milk  grew 
so  cool  that  she  could  dip  her  fingers  into  it, 
without  burning  herself;  and  she  took  out  the 
flower-pot,  and  carefully  untied  the  wet  pack- 
thread, and  unwound  it ;  but  when  she  had 
untied  it,  the  parts  of  the  flower-pot  did  not 
stick  together  ;  they  separated ;  and  Frank 
was  disappointed.  , 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  he,  "I  wish  you 
would  be  so  good  as  to  send  to  the  woman, 
and  ask  her  how  it  was  that  she  could  mend 


126  EARLY    LESSONS. 

broken  things  by  boiling  them  in  milk ;  per- 
haps she  knows  something  about  it  that  we 
do  not  know  yet." 

"  Stay,"  said  Henry  ;  "  before  you  send  to 
the  woman,  try  another  experiment.  Here's 
a  saucer  which  I  broke  just  before  you  came 
in  from  walking  —  I  was  rubbing  some  In- 
dian ink  upon  it,  and  I  let  it  slip  off  the  table. 
Let  us  tie  this  together,  and  try  whether  you 
can  mend  it  by  boiling  it  in  the  milk." 

The  saucer  was  tied  together;  the  milk 
that  was  in  the  saucepan  was  poured  out, 
and  some  cold  milk  was  put  into  it ;  in- 
to this  milk  the  saucer  was  put,  and  the 
milk  was  then  boiled ;  and  the  moment  the 
saucepan  was  taken  off  the  fire,  Frank  was 
impatient  to  see  the  saucer.  Before  it  was 
nearly  cool,  he  untied  the  string;  the  parts 
of  the  saucer  did  not  stick  together ;  and 
Frank  was  more  disappointed  now  than  he 
had  been  before. 

His  mother  smiled,  and  said,  "  Frank,  peo- 
ple who  wish  to  try  experiments,  you  see, 
must  be  patient." 

The  woman,  whom  he  had  heard  speaking 
to  the  little  girl  by  the  river  side,  lived  very 
near  to  them ;  and  Frank's  mother  sent  to 
beg  to  speak  to  her.  She  came  ;  and  when 
she  was  told  what  had  been  done  about  the 
flower-pot  and  the  saucer,  she  asked  whether 
it  was  a  long  time  since  the  flower-pot  had 
been  broken. 


FRANK.  127 

"Yes,  about  two  months." 

"  Then,  rna'am."  said  she,  "that  could  not 
be  mended  this  way ;  1  can  only  mend  things 
this  way,  that  have  been  fresh  broken." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  how  comes  it 
that  the  saucer,  which  Henry  did  but  just 
break  before  we  came  in  from  walking,  did 
not  stick  together,  after  all  we  did  to  it?" 

"Perhaps,  master,"  said  the  woman,  "you 
did  not  let  it  stand  to  cool  before  you  un- 
tied it." 

"No,  I  did  not,"  said  Frank;  "I  will  be 
more  patient  this  time,  mamma,  if  you  will 
let  me  try  once  more." 

His  mother  let  him  try  once  more.  As  he 
was  tying  the  broken  saucer  together,  the 
old  woman  said  to  him,  "  Tie  it  very  tight, 
and  fit  it  close  and  even,  or  it  will  not  do." 

He  waited  till  the  saucer  was  cold  this 
time,  and  then  he  untied  the  string ;  and  he 
found  that  the  parts  of  the  saucer  stuck  fast 
together;  and  he  could  scarcely  see  the 
place  where  they  were  joined. 

He  was  pleased  with  this  success  ;  and  he 
said,  "  People  must  be  patient  who  try  exper- 
iments ;  and  people  must  be  patient  who  are 
to  observe  things ;  and  then  I  shall  see  the 
chrysalis  change  to  a  moth  or  a  butterfly. 
But,  mother,  first  I  shall  see"  the  caterpillar 
change  to  a  chrysalis." 

Frank  put  his  green  caterpillar  into  his  red 
box ;  and  then  he  went  again  to  look  at  the 


128  EARLY    LESSONS. 

saucer  which  had  been  mended,  and  at  the 
flower-pot  which  the  old  woman  said  could 
not  be  mended  ;  and  he  asked  his  mother  if 
she  could  tell  the  reason  why  things,  which 
had  been  broken  a  long  time  before  could 
not  be  mended  by  being  boiled,  in  this  man- 
ner, in  milk. 

"  I  think  I  can  guess  the  reason,"  said  his 
mother  ;  "  but  I  will  not  tell  it  to  you  ;  I 
would  rather  that  you  should  think  and  find 
it  out  for  yourself.  If  I  were  to  tell  you  the 
reason  of  every  thing,  my  dear,  you  would 
never  take  the  trouble  of  thinking  for  your- 
self ;  and  you  know  I  shall  not  always  be 
with  you,  to  think  for  you." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  there  is  a  reason 
that  I  have  thought  of;  but  I  am  not  sure 
that  it  is  a  right  reason ;  but  it  may  be  one  of 
the  reasons." 

"  Well,  let  us  hear  it,  without  any  more 
reasons,"  said  his  mother,  laughing. 

"  I  thought,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  that 
perhaps  the  old  woman  could  never  mend 
things  —  " 

"  Things  ?  what  sort  of  things  ?  chairs  and 
tables,  or  coats  and  waistcoats  ?  " 

"O  mamma,  you  know  very  well  what  I 
mean." 

"  Yes,  I  guess  what  you  mean ;  but  other 
people  will  not  be  at  the  trouble  of  guessing 
at  the  meaning  of  what  you  say  ;  therefore,  if 


FRANK.  129 

you  wish  to  be  understood,  you  must  learn  to 
explain  yourself  distinctly." 

"  I  thought,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  that 
the  reason  why  the  old  woman  could  never 
mend  cups  and  saucers,  or  jugs,  or  plates,  that 
had  been  broken  a  great  while,  was  because, 
perhaps,  the  edges  of  these  might  have  been 
rubbed  or  broken  off,  so  that  they  could  not 
be  fitted  close  together  again.  If  you  recol- 
lect, the  old  woman  said  to  me,  when  I  was 
tying  the  broken  saucer  together,  '  Tie  it 

tight,  and  fit  it  close,  or  it  will  not  do.' 

Do  you  think  that  I  have  found  out  the 
right  reason,  mamrna  ?  Is  it  the  reason 
which  you  thought  of  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  reason,"  answered  his  mother, 
"which  I  thought  of;  but  my  having 
thought  of  it,  is  no  proof  that  it  is  right. 
The  best  way  to  find  out  whether  this  is  the 

cause,  is  to  try  it. -Can  you  find  out 

yourself,  Frank,  how  you  may  prove  whether 
this  is  the  reason  or  not  ?  " 

"  I  would  rub  the  edges  of  a  plate  or  sau- 
cer, after  it  was  broken ;  and  when  I  had 
rubbed  off  little  bits  of  the  edges,  I  would 
tie  the  pieces  together  and  boil  them  in 
milk  :  and  I  would,  at  the  same  time,  break 
another  bit  of  the  same  plate,  or  saucer ;  and 
I  would  tie  the  broken  pieces  'together,  with- 
out rubbing  off  any  of  the  edges ;  and  I 
would  put  it  into  the  same  milk,  and  let  it  ba 
upon  the  fire  as  long,  and  let  it  be  as  long 


EARLY    LESSONS. 

before  I  un/ied  it,  as  before  I  untied  the 
otner  broken  pieces ;  and  then  we  should 
see  whether  the  rubbing  of  the  edges  would 
prevent  the  pieces  from  joining,  or  not." 

Frank's  mother  told  him  that  he  might 
try  his  experiment.  He  tried  it ;  and  he 
found  that  the  broken  bits  of  the  plate,  whose 
edges  he  had  broken  off,  could  not  be  joined 
by  being  boiled  in  milk ;  and  two  other 
broken  bits  of  the  same  plate,  which  he 
joined  without  rubbing  off  their  edges,  stuck 
together,  after  they  had  been  boiled  in  milk, 
very  well. 

Then  Frank  said,  "  Mamma,  there  is  an- 
other thing  which  I  should  like  to  try ;  I 
should  like  to  tie  the  broken  flower-pot  very 
tight  together,  and  to  fit  the  pieces  closely  ; 
for,  the  last  time  I  tied  it,  I  did  not  tie  it  very 
tight ;  I  did  not  know  that  I  should  have 
done  that,  till  the  old  woman  told  me  that  I 
should.  I  think,  perhaps,  the  flower-pot  may 
be  mended,  because,  though  it  has  been 
broken  a  great  while,  the  edges  of  it  have 
never  been  rubbed,  I  believe  :  it  has  been  ly- 
ing in  the  press,  in  your  room  ;  and  nobody 
has  ever  meddled  with  it." 

"  Nobody  has  ever  meddled  with  it,  I  be- 
lieve," said  his  mother;  "for  I  lock  that 
press  every  day  ;  and  no  one  goes  to  it  but 
myself;  and  I  have  never  rubbed  any  thing 
against  the  edges  of  the  broken  flower-pot." 

She   went  and  brought  the  pieces  of  the 


FRANK.  131 

flo\ter-pot;  and  Frank  tied  them  together, 
very  tight,  after  he  had  fitted  their  edges 
closely  and  evenly  together.  He  boiled 
this  flower-pot  again  in  milk,  waited  after- 
wards till  it  became  cool,  and  then  he  untied 
it  ;  and  he  found  that  the  parts  stuck  togeth- 
er ;  and  he  poured  water  into  it,  and  the 
water  did  not  run  out.  Frank  was  glad  that 
he  had  mended  the  flower-pot  at  last. 

"  Do  you  think,  mother,"  said  he,  "  that  it 
was  made  to  stick  together  again  by  being 
tied  so  tight,  or  by  the  milk,  or  by  both  to- 
gether ? " 

"I  do  not  know,"  answered  his  mother; 
"  but  you  may  try  whether  tying  broken 
pieces  of  earthenware  together  will  fasten 
them,  without  boiling  them  in  milk." 

Frank  tried  this ;  and  he  let  the  pieces 
that  were  tied  together  remain  still,  as  long 
as  those  which  he  had  before  boiled  in  milk  ; 
and  when  .he  had  untied  the  string,  the 
pieces  separated ;  they  did  not  stick  to- 
gether in  the  least.  He  afterwards  tied 
these  pieces  together  again,  and  boiled  them 
in  water ;  and  he  found,  when  he  untied 
them,  that  they  did  not  stick  together. 


There  was  one  part  of  a  winter's  evening 
which  Frank  liked  particularly  ;  it  was  the 
half  hour  after  dinner,  when  the  window- 
shutters  were  shut,  and  the  curtains  let 


132  EARLY    LESSONS. 

down,  and  the  fire  stirred,  so  as  to  make  a 
cheerful  blaze,  which  lighted  the  whole 
room. 

His  father  and  mother  did  not  ring  the 
bell  for  candles,  because  they  liked  to  sit  a 
little  while  after  dinner,  by  the  light  of 
the  fire. 

Frank's  father  used  often,  at  this  time,  to 
play  with  him,  or  to  talk  to  him. 

One  evening,  after  his  father  had  been 
playing  with  Frank,  and  had  made  him 
jump,  and  run,  and  wrestle,  and  laugh,  till 
Frank  was  quite  hot,  and  out  of  breath,  he 
knelt  down  upon  the  carpet,  at  his  father's 
feet,  rested  his  arms  upon  his  father's  knees, 
and,  looking  up  in  his  father's  face,  he  said, 
"  Now,  papa,  whilst  I  am  resting  myself  so 
happily  here,  will  you  tell  me  something  en- 
tertaining ?  " 

But,  just  as  Frank  said  the  word  "  enter- 
taining," the  door  opened,  and/ the  servant 
came  into  the  room  with  lighted  candles. 

'•  O  candles  !  I  am  sorry  you  are  come  !  " 
cried  Frank. 

"  O  candles  !  T  am  glad  you  have  come," 
said  his  father  ;  "  for  now  I  can  see  to  read  an 
entertaining  book,  which  I  want  to  finish." 

"  But,  papa,"  said  Frank,  "cannot  you  sit 
still,  a  little,  little  while  longer,  and  tell  me 
some  short  thing  ?  " 

"  Well,  what  shall  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  There  are  so  many  things  that  I  do  not 


FRANK.  133 

know,  papa,  I  do  not  know  which  to  ask  for 
first.  I  want  to  know  whether  you  have 
ever  seen  a  camel ;  and  I  want  to  know  where 
silkworms  are  found,  and  how  they  make  silk ; 
and  I  want  to  know  how  people  weave  linen 
in  a  loom,  and  how  wool  of  sheep  is  made  into 
such  coats  as  we  have  on.  And  O  father  ! 
I  wish  very  much  to  know  how  the  fat  of 
animals  is  made  into  candles. 

"  You  promised  to  tell  me,  or  to  show  me. 
how  that  was  done.  And  O !  more  than 
all  the  rest,  I  wish  to  know  how  plates,  and 
jugs,  and  cups,  and  saucers,  and  flower-pots, 
are  made  of  clay  —  and  whether  they  are 
made  of  clay  such  as  I  have  in  my  garden. 
And  I  want  very  much  to  know  where  tea 
comes  from  ;  and " 

"  Stop,  stop  !  my  dear  Frank,"  said  his 
father  ;  "  it  would  take  up  a  great  deal  more 
of  my  time  than  I  can  bestow  upon  you,  to 
answer  all  these  questions.  I  cannot  answer 
any  of  them  to-night ;  for  I  have  a  great 
many  other  things  to  do.  The  first  thing  you 
asked  me,  I  think,  was,  whether  I  had  ever 
seen,  a  camel.  I  have ;  and  the  print  I  am 
going  to  show  you  is  very  much  like  the 
animal  that  I  saw  ;  and  you  may  read  his 
history  ;  and  then  you  will  know  all  that  I 
know  of  camels ;  and  when  you  have  sat- 
isfied your  curiosity  about  camels,  I  can  lend 
you  another  book,  in  which  you  rnay  read 
the  history  of  silk- worms." 


134  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  Thank  you,  papa,"  said  Frank  ;  "I  shall 
like  to  read  these  things  very  much ;  only  I 
cannot  read  quick  yet,  papa ;  and  there  are 
words  sometimes  which  I  cannot  make  out 
very  well." 

"  If  you  persevere,"  said  his  father,  "  you 
will  soon  be  able  to  read  without  any  diffi- 
culty. But  nothing  can  be  done  well  with- 
out perseverance.  You  have  showed  me 
that  you  have  a  great  deal  of  perseverance, 
and " 

"  Have  I,  papa  ? "  interrupted  Frank ; 
"when  did  I  show  that  to  you?" 

"  The  morning  when  you  tried,  for  an 
hour  and  a  half,  to  put  the  joining  map 
together." 

"  And  at  last  I  did  put  it  together." 

"  Yes  ;  you  succeeded,  because  you  per- 
severed." 

"  Then,"  said  Frank,  "  I  will  persevere, 
and  learn  to  read  easily,  that  I  may  read  all 
the  entertaining  things  that  are  in  books ; 
and  then  I  shall  be  as  glad  when  the  candles 
come  as  you  were  just  now,  papa." 


PRANK 


PART   III. 


FRANK  was  very  fond  of  playing  at  battle- 
door  and  shuttlecock ;  but  he  could  not  al- 
ways play  when  he  liked,  or  as  long  as  he 
liked  it,  because  he  had  no  battledoor  or 
shuttlecock  of  his  own.  He  determined  to 
try  to  make  a  shuttlecock  for  himself;  but 
he  had  no  cork  for  the  bottom  of  it,  and  he 
had  only  five  feathers,  which  belonged  to  an 
old,  worn-out  shuttlecock.  They  were  ruf- 
fled and  bent.  His  mother  was  very  busy, 
so  that  he  did  not  like  to  interrupt  her,  to  ask 
for  more  feathers ;  and  his  father  was  out 
riding,  so  that  Frank  could  not  ask  him  for  a 
cork.  His  brother  Edward  advised  tym  to 
put  off  trying  to  make  his  shuttlecock,  till  his 
mother  was  not  busy,  and  till  his  father 
should  return  from  riding ;  Frank  was  so 
impatient,  that  he  did  not  take  this  prudent 
advice.  He  set  to  work  immediately,  to 
make  the  bottom  of  his  shuttlecock  of  one 
end  of  the  handle  of  his  pricker,  which  he 
sawed  off,  because  he  thought  that  it  re- 
sembled the  bottom  of  a  shuttlecock  in  shape 


13b  EARLY    LESSONS. 

more  than  any  other  bit  of  wood  which  he 
possessed.  When  he  tried  to  make  holes  in 
it  for  the  feathers,  he  found  that  the  wood 
was  extremely  hard;  he  tried,  and  tried,  in 
vain  ;  and,  at  last,  snap  went  the  end  of  the 
pricker.  It  broke  in  two ;  and  Frank  was 
so  sorry  that  he  began  to  cry ;  but  recollect- 
ing that  his  tears  would  not  mend  his  pricker, 
he  dried  his  eyes,  and  resolved  to  bear  the 
loss  of  it  like  a  man.  He  examined  the  stump 
of  the  pricker,  which  he  held  in  his  hand, 
and  he  found  that  there  was  enough  of  the 
steel  left,  to  be  sharpened  again  ;  he  began  to 
file  it  as  well  as  he  could ;  and,  after  taking 
some  pains,  he  sharpened  it  ;  but  he  did  not 
attempt  to  make  any  more  holes  in  the  sharp 
wood,  lest  he  should  break  the  pricker  again. 
He  said  to  himself,  "  Edward  gave  me  good 
advice,  and  I  will  now  take  it.  I  will  wait  till 
my  father  comes  home,  and  till  my  mother  is 
not  busy ;  and  then  I  will  ask  them  for  what 
I  want." 

The  next  day  his  father  gave  him  a  cork, 
and  his  mother  gave  him  some  feathers  ;  and, 
after  several  trials,  he  at  last  made  a  shut- 
tlecock, which  flew  tolerably  well.  He  was 
eager  to  try  it,  and  he  ran  to  his  brother  Ed- 
ward, and  showed  it  to  him,  and  Edward  liked 
the  shuttlecock,  but  could  not  then  play, 
because  he  was  learning  his  Latin  lesson. 

"Well!  I  will  have  patience  till  to-mor- 
row, if  I  can,"  said  Frank. 


FRANK.  137 

It  happened,  this  same  evening,  that  Frank 
was  present  when  his  brother  Edward,  and 
three  of  his  cousins,  were  dressing,  to  act  a 
pantomime.  They  were  in  a  great  hurry. 
They  had  lost  the  burnt  cork  with  which 
they  were  to  blacken  their  eyebrows.  They 
looked  every  where  that  they  could  think  of 
for  it,  but,  all  in  vain ;  and  a  messenger  came 
to  tell  them  that  every  body  was  seated,  and 
that  they  must  begin  to  act  the  pantomime  di- 
rectly. They  looked  with  still  more  eager- 
ness for  this  cork,  but  it  could  not  be  found  ; 
and  they  did  not  know  where  to  get  another. 

"  I  have  one  !  I  have  one  !  I  have  a  cork ! 
you  shall  have  it  in  a  minute !  "  cried  the 
good-natured  little  Frank.  He  ran  up  stairs 
directly,  pulled  all  the  feathers  out  of  his 
dear  shuttlecock,  burnt  the  end  of  the  cork 
in  the  candle,  and  gave  it  to  his  friends. 
They  did  not  know,  at  this  moment,  that  it 
was  the  cork  of  Frank's  shuttlecock  :  but, 
when  they  afterwards  found  it  out,  they 
were  very  much  obliged  to  him ;  and  when 
his  father  heard  this  instance  of  his  good 
nature,  he  was  much  pleased.  He  set  Frank 
upon  the  table  before  him,  after  dinner,  when 
all  his  friends  were  present,  and  said  to  him, 
"  My  dear  little  son,  1  am  glad  to  find  that 
you  are  of  such  a  generous  disposition.  Be- 
lieve me,  such  a  disposition  is  of  more  value 
than  all  the  battledoors  and  shuttlecocks  in 
(he  world !  you  are  welcome  to  as  many 
19 


138  EARLY    LESSONS, 

corks  and  feathers  as  you  please :  yon,  who 
are  so  willing  to  help  your  friends  in  theif 
amusements,  shall  find  that  we  are  all  ready 
and  eager  to  assist  you  in  yours." 

Close  to  the  garden,  which  Frank's  mother 
had  given  to  him,  there  was  a  hut,  in  which 
garden  tools  and  watering  pots  used  formerly 
to  be  kept ;  but  it  had  been  found  to  be  too 
small  for  this  purpose,  and  a  larger  had  been 
built  in  another  part  of  the  kitchen-garden. 
Nothing  was  now  kept  in  that  which  was 
near  Frank's  garden,  but  some  old  flower- 
pots and  pans.  Frank  used  to  like  to  go  into 
this  hut,  to  play  with  the  flower-pots  ;  they 
were  piled  up  higher  than  his  head ;  and  one 
day,  when  he  was  pulling  out  from  the  un- 
dermost part  of  the  pile  a  large  pan,  the 
whole  pile  of  flower-pots  shook  from  bottom 
to  top,  and  one  of  the  uppermost  flower-pots 
fell  down.  If  Frank  had  not  run  out  of  the 
way  in  an  instant,  it  would  have  fallen  on  his 
head.  As  soon  as  he  had  a  little  recovered 
from  his  fright,  he  saw  that  the  flower-pot 
had  been  broken  by  the  fall,  and  he  took  up 
the  broken  pieces,  arid  went  into  the  house, 
to  his  mother,  to  tell  her  what  had  happened. 
He  found  his  father  and  mother  sitting  at  the 
table,  writing  letters  ;  they  both  looked  up 
when  he  came  in,  and  said,  — 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Frank  ?  you  look 
very  pale." 


FHANK.  139 

"  Because,  mamma,  I  have  broken  this 
flower-pot." 

"Wed,  my  dear,  you  do  rightly  to  come 
and  tell  us  that  you  broke  it.  It  is  an  ac- 
cident. There  is  no  occasion  to  be  fright- 
ened about  it." 

"  No.  mamma ;  it  was  not  that  which  fright- 
ened me  so  much.  But  it  is  well,  that  I  did 
not  break  my  own  head,  and  all  the  flower- 
pots in  the  garden  house." 

Then  he  told  his  mother  how  he  had 
attempted  to  pull  out  the  undermost  pan, 
and  how  "  the  great  pile  shook  from  top  to 
bottom." 

"It  is  well  you  did  not  hurt  yourself,  in- 
deed, Frank  !  "  said  his  mother. 

His  father  asked  if  there  was  a  key  to  the 
door  of  the  hut. 

"Papa,  there  is  an  old,  rusty  lock,  but 
no  key." 

"  The  gardener  has  the  key;  I  will  go  for 
it  directly,"  said  his  father,  rising  from  his 
seat  ;  "  and  I  will  lock  that  door,  lest  the  boy 
should  do  the  same  thing  again."  % 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Frank ;  "  I  am  not  so 
silly  as  to  do  again  what  I  know  might 
hurt  me." 

"  But,  my  dear,  without  doing  it  on  pur- 
pose, you  might,  by  accident,  when  you  are 
playing  in  that  house,  shake  those  pots,  and 
pull  them  down  upon  yourself.  Whenever 
there  is  any  real  danger,  you  know  I  always 


140  EARLY    LESSONS. 

tell  you  of  it,  and  it  is  much  better  to  prevent 
any  evil,  than  to  be  sorry  for  it  afterwards 
I  will  go  this  minute  and  look  for  the  keyt 
and  lock  the  door,"  continued  his  father. 

"  Papa,"  said  Frank,  stopping  him,  "  you 
need  not  go  for  the  key,  nor  lock  the  door  ; 
for,  if  you  desire  me  not  to  play  in  the  old 
garden  house,  I  will  not  play  there ;  I  will 
not  go  in,  I  promise  you  ;  I  will  never  even 
open  the  door." 

"  Very  well,  Frank  ;  I  can  trust  to  your 
promise.  Therefore,  I  want  no  lock  and 
key.  Your  word  is  enough." 

"  But  only  take  care  you  do  not  forget, 
and  run  in  by  accident,  Frank,"  said  his 
mother :  "  as  you  have  such  a  habit  of  going 
in  there,  you  might  forget." 

"'Mamma,  I  will  not  forget  my  promise," 
said  Frank. 


A  few  days  after  this  time,  Frank's  father 
and  mother  were  walking  in  the  garden,  and 
they  came  to  the  old  garden  house,  and  they 
stopped  and  looked  at  the  door,  which  was  a 
little  open.  This  door  could  not  be  blown 
open  by  the  wind,  because  it  stuck  against 
the  ground  at  one  corner,  and  could  not  be 
easily  moved. 

"  I  assure  you,  mamma,  I  did  not  forget ;  I 
did  not  open  it ;  I  did  not  go  in,  indeed 
papa,"  said  Frank. 


FRANK.  141 

His  father  answered,  "  We  did  not  sus- 
pect you  of  having  opened  the  door,  Frank." 

And  his  father  and  mother  looked  at  one 
another,  and  smiled. 

His  father  called  the  gardener,  and  desired 
that  he  would  not  open  the  door  of  the  old 
garden  house  ;  and  he  ordered  that  none  of 
the  servants  should  go  in  there. 

A  week  passed,  and  another  week  passed, 
and  a  third  week  passed,  and  again  Frank's 
father  and  mother  were  walking  in  the  gar- 
den ;  and  his  mother  said,  — 

"  Let  us  go  and  look  at  the  old  garden 
house." 

His  father  and  mother  went  together,  and 
Frank  ran  after  them,  rejoicing  that  he  had 
kept  his  promise  ;  he  never  had  gone  into 
that  house,  though  he  had  been  often  tempt- 
ed to  do  so,  because  he  had  left  there  a  little 
boat,  of  which  he  was  very  fond.  When  his 
father  and  mother  had  looked  at  the  door  of 
the  garden  house,  they  again  looked  at  each 
other,  and  smiled,  and  said,  — 

"  We  are  glad  to  see,  Frank,  that  you 
have  kept  your  word,  and  thaL  you  have 
not  opened  this  door." 

"  I  have  not  opened  the  door,  papa," 
answered  Frank ;  "  but  how  do  you  know 
that,  by  only  looking  at  it  ? " 

"  You  may  find  out  how  we  know  it ;  and 
we  had  rather  that  you  should  find  it  out 


142  EARLY    LESSONS. 

than  that  we  should  tell  it  to  you,"  said  his 
father. 

Frank  guessed,  first,  that  they  recollected 
exactly  how  far  open  the  door  had  been  left, 
and  that  they  saw  it  was  now  open  exactly 
to  the  same  place.  But  his  father  answered, 
that  this  was  not  the  way ;  for  that  they 
could  not  be  certain,  by  this  means,  that  the 
door  had  not  been  opened  wider,  and  then 
shut  again  to  the  same  place. 

"  Papa,  you  might  have  seen  the  mark  in 
the  dust,  which  the  door  would  have  made 
in  opening.  Was  that  the  way,  papa?  " 

"  No  ;  that  is  a  tolerably  good  way ;  but 
the  trace  of  the  opening  of  the  door  might  be 
effaced,  that  is,  rubbed  out,  and  the  ground 
might  have  been  smoothed  again.  There  is 
another  circumstance,  Frank,  which,  if  you 
observe  carefully,  you  may  discover." 

Frank  took  hold  of  the  door,  and  was  going 
to  move  it ;  but  his  father  stopped  his  hand. 

"  You  must  not  move  the  door  ;  look  at  it 
without  stirring  it." 

Frank  looked  carefully,  and  then  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  I've  found  it  out,  papa !  I've  found  it  out ! 
I  see  a  spider's  web,  with  all  its  fine  thin  rings 
and  spokes,  like  a  wheel,  just  at  the  top  of 
the  door ;  and  it  stretches  from  the  top  of  the 
door  to  this  post,  against  which  the  door 
shuts.  Now,  if  the  door  had  been  shut  or 
opened  wider,  this  spider's  web  would  have 


FRANK. 


143 


been  crushed  ov  broken ;  the  door  could  not 
have  been  shut  or  opened  without  breaking 
it.  May  I  try,  papa  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear." 

He  tried  to  open  the  door,  and  the  spider's 
web  broke,  and  that  part  of  it,  which  had 
been  fastened  to  the  door,  fell  down,  and 
hung  against  the  post. 

"  You  have  found  it  out  now,  Frank,  you 
see,"  said  his  father. 

His  mother  was  going  to  ask  him  if  he 
know  how  a  spider  makes  his  web ;  but  she 
stopped,  and  did  not  then  ask  him  this  qiies- 


114  EARLY    LESSONS. 

tion,  because  she  saw  that  he  was  thinking 
of  his  little  boat. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Frank  !  you  may  go  into 
the  house  now,"  said  his  mother,  "  and  take 
your  little  boat." 

Frank  ran  in,  and,  seizing  it,  hugged  it  in 
his  arms. 

"  My  dear  little  boat,  how  glad  I  am  to 
have  you  again  !  "  cried  he  ;  "  I  wish  I  might 
go  to  the  river  side  this  evening,  and  swim 
it;  and  there  is  a  fine  wind,  and  it  woula 
sail  fast." 

Frank  was  never  allowed  to  go  to  the  river 
side,  to  swim  his  boat,  without  his  father  or 
mother,  or  eldest  brother,  could  go  with  him. 

•'Mamma,  will  you"  —  said  he  —  "can 
you  be  so  good  as  to  go  with  me,  this  evening, 
to  the  river  side,  that  I  may  swim  my  boat  ?  " 

His  mother  told  him  that  she  had  intended 
to  walk  another  way ;  but  that  she  would 
willingly  do  what  he  asked  her,  as  he  had 
done  what  she  desired.  His  father  said  the 
same,  and  they  went  to  the  river  side.  His 
father  walked  on  the  banks,  looking  till  he 
saw  a  place  where  he  thought  it  would  be  safe 
for  Frank  to  swim  his  boat.  He  found  a 
place  where  the  river  ran  in  between  two 
narrow  banks  of  land;  such  a  place,  Frank's 
father  told  him,  in  large  rivers,  is  called  a 
creek. 

The  water  in  this  creek  was  very  shal- 
low ;  so  shallow  that  you  could  see  the  sand 


FRANK. 


J15 


and  many  colored  pebbles  at  the  bottom ; 
yet  it  was  deep  enough  for  Frank's  little  boat 
to  float  upon  it.  Frank  put  his  boat  into  the 
water  —  he  launched  it  —  and  set  the  sail  to 
the  wind ;  that  is,  turned  it  so  that  the  wind 
blew  against  it,  and  drove  the  boat.  on. 

It  sailed  swiftly  over  the  smooth  water, 
and  Frank  was  happy  looking  at  it  and  di- 
recting it  various  ways,  by  setting  or  turn- 
ing the  sail  in  different  directions,  and  then 
watching  which  way  it  would  go. 

"Mamma,"  said  he,  after  his  mother  had 
remained  a  good  while,  "  you  are  very  good- 
natured  to  stay  with  me  so  long  ;  but  I  am 
13 


146  EARLY    LESSONS. 

afraid  you  will  not  have  time  to  come  again 
to-morrow  ;  and,  if  you  cannot,  I  shall  not 
have  the  pleasure  of  swimming  my  boat. 
Papa,  the  water  is  so  very  shallow  here,  and  all 
the  way  along  this  creek,  that,  if  I  was  to  fall 
in,  I  could  not  drown  myself;  and  the  banks 
are  so  close,  that  I  could  walk  to  them  and 
get  on  dry  land,  directly.  I  wish,  papa,  you 
would  let  me  come  here  whenever  I  please, 
without  any  body  with  me  ;  then  I  should 
not  be  obliged  to  wait  till  mamma  had  time, 
or  till  my  brother  Edward  had  done  his  les- 
son ;  then  I  could  swim  my  boat  so  happily, 
papa,  whenever  I  pleased." 

"  But  how  can  I  be  sure  that  you  will 
never  go  to  any  other  part  of  the  river, 
Frank  ?  » 

"  You  know,  papa,  I  did  not  open  the  door, 
or  go  into  the  garden  house,  after  yon  had 
desired  me  not,  and  after  I  had  promised  that 
I  would  not ;  and,  if  I  promise  that  I  will 
not  go  to  any  other  part  of  the  river,  you 
know  you  can  believe  me." 

"  Very  true,  Frank,  and  therefore  I  grant 
your  request.  I  can  trust  to  your  doing  what 
I  desire  you  to  do ;  and  I  can  trust  to  your 
promise.  You  may  come  here  whenever 
you  please,  and  sail  your  boat  in  this  creek, 
from  the  stump  of  this  willow-tree,  as  far  in 
this  way  towards  the  land  as  you  please." 

Frank  clapped  his  hands  joyfully,  and 
cried,  "  Thank  you,  papa  !  thank  you.  Mam- 


FRANK.  147 

ma,  do  you  hear  that  ?  Papa  has  given  m6 
leave  to  come  to  this  place  whenever  I 
please,  to  .swim  my  boat ;  for  he  trusts  to  my 
promise,  mamma." 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  just  reward  for  you,  Frank," 
said  his  mother.  "  The  being  believed 
another  time,  and  the  being  more  and  more 
trusted,  is  the  just  reward  for  having  done  as 
you  said  that  you  would  do,  and  for  having 
kept  your  promise." 

"O,  thank  you,  mamma;  thank  you,  papa, 
for  trusting  to  my  promise  !  "  said  Frank. 

"  You  need  not  thank  me,  my  dear,  for  be- 
lieving  you,"  said  his  father  ;  "  for  I  cannot 
help  believing  you,  because  you  speak  truth. 
Being  believed,  is  not  only  the  reward,  but 
the  necessary  consequence,  of  speaking  truth." 


Next  morning,  at  breakfast,  Frank's  father 
told  him,  that,  if  all  the  flower-pots  were  car- 
ried out  of  the  old  garden  house,  and  if  they 
were  removed  without  being  broken,  he 
would  give  the  empty  hut  to  Frank  for  his 
own. 

"  For  my  own  !  "  cried  Frank,  leaping 
from  his  chair  with  delight  —  "  For  my  own, 
papa !  And  do  you  mean  that  I  may  new 
roof  it,  and  thatch  it?" 

"  If  you  can,"  said  his  father,  smiling. 
"  You  may  do  what  you  please  with  it,  as 
soon  as  the  flower-pots  are  removed,  but  not 


148  EARLY  LESSONS. 

till  then ;  they  must  all  be  carried  to  the 
house  at  the  other  end  of  the  garden,  before 
I  give  you  the  hut.  How  will  you  get  this 
done,  Frank?  for  you  are  not  tall  enough  to 
reach  to  the  uppermost  part  of  the  pile  your- 
self: if  you  begin  at  the  bottom,  you  will 
pull  them  all  down,  and  hurt  yourself,  and 
you  will  break  them,  and  I  should  not  give 
you  the  house." 

"  Papa,  perhaps  the  gardener " 

"No,  the  gardener  is  busy." 

Frank  looked  round  the  breakfast-table  at 
his  brother  Edward,  and  at  his  three  cousins, 
William,  Charles,  arid  Frederick  ;  they  all 
smiled,  and  immediately  said  that  they  would 
undertake  to  carry  the  flower-pots  for  him. 

The  moment  they  had  eaten  their  break- 
fast, which  they  made  haste  to  finish,  they 
all  ran  out  to  the  old  garden  house.  Edward 
took  a  wooden  stool,  mounted  upon  it,  and 
handed  down  carefully  the  uppermost  of  the 
garden  pots  to  his  cousins,  who  stood  below, 
and  they  carried  them  into  the  new  garden 
house. 

As  all  these  boys  helped  one  another,  and 
worked  with  good  will,  and  in  good  order, 
the  great  pile  was  soon  carried  away  ;  so  soon, 
that  Frank  was  quite  surprised  to  see  that  it 
xvas  gone.  Not  one  flower-pot  was  broken. 
Frank  ran  to  tell  his  father  this ;  and  his 
father  went  out  and  saw  that  the  garden  pots 
had  been  safely  removed ;  and  then  he  gave 


FRANK. 


149 


the  house  to  Frank,  and  put  the  key  of  it 
into  his  hand. 

Frank  turned  to  his  brother  Edward  and 
his  cousins,  and  said,  "  Edward,  how  good 
you  and  my  cousins  were  to  help  me  !  " 

"You  deserved  that  we  should  do  tbis  for 
you,"  said  Edward.  "  We  do  not  forget 
how  good-natured  you  were  to  us  about  the 
cork  of  your  shuttlecock.  When  we  were 
in  distress,  you  helped  us ;  so  it  was  lair  that 
we  should  help  you,  when  you  wanted  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  his  father  ;  "  those,  who  are 
ready  to  help  others,  generally  find  others 


150  EARLY   LESSONS. 

ready  to  help  them.  This  is  the  natural  and 
just  reward  of  good-nature." 

"Reward!  papa,"  said  Frank;  "that 
word  you  used  several  times  yesterday,  and 
again  to-day,  and  it  always  puts  rne  in  mind 
of  the  time  when  you  gave  me  my  Bewick 
on  Quadrupeds.  You  gave  it  to  me,  do  you 
remember?  as  a  reward  for  having,  as  you 
wrote  in  the  book,  cured  myself  of  a  foolish 
habit.  I  recollect,  that  was  the  first  time  I 
ever  exactly  understood  the  meaning  of  the 
word  reward." 

"And  what  do  you  understand,  Frank,  by 
the  word  reward  1 "  said  his  father. 

"  O  papa !  I  know  very  well ;  for  mam- 
ma then  told  me,  a  reward  is  something  we 
likp,  something  we  wish  to  have,  something 
papa,  I  thought  I  could  explain  it  bet- 
ter ;  I  cannot  explain  it  in  words ;  but  I 
know  what  it.  is.  Will  you  explain  it  to  me 
again,  papa  ? " 

"  Do  you  try  first,  if  you  understand  what 
it  means  ;  and  if  you  will  stand  still,  and  have 
a  little  patience,  you  will  perhaps  be  able  to 
find  words  to  express  your  thoughts.  Try, 
and  do  not  look  back  at  the  dear  hut ;  the 
hut  is  there,  and  will  not  run  away ;  you 
will  have  time  enough,  all  the  morning  and 
all  the  evening,  to  play  in  it,  and  to  do  what 
you  please  with  the  roof  of  it.  So  now 
stand  still,  and  show  me  that  you  can  com- 


FRANK.  151 

mand  your  attention  for  a  few  minutes. 

\Vhat  is  a  reward'1  " 

Frank,  after  he  had  considered  for  a  few 
moments,  answered,  — 

"  A  reward  is  something  that  is  given  to 
us  for  having  done  right ;  no,  it  is  not  al- 
ways a  thing,  for  though  the  first  reward  that 
was  given  to  me  was  a  thing,  —  a  book,  — 
yet  I  have  had  rewards  that  were  of  a  dif- 
ferent sort.  That  was  a  reward  to  me  yes- 
terday about  the  boat ;  and  when  you,  papa, 
or  when  mamma  praises  me,  that  is  a  sort  of 
reward." 

"  It  is,"  said  his  father. 

"  Papa,  I  believe,"  continued  Frank,  "that 
a  reward  is  any  sort  of  pleasure,  which  is 
given  to  us  for  doing  right.  Is  it,  papa  ?  " 

"  It  is,  my  dear.  Now  answer  me  one  or 
two  more  questions,  and  then  I  will  reward 
your  patience,  by  letting  you  go  to  your  hut." 

"  I  am  not  thinking  of  that  now,  papa;  I 
will  stay  and  answer  as  many  questions  as 
you.  please." 

"  Then,  what  do  you  think,"  said  his  fa- 
ther, '•'  is  the  use  of  rewards  ?  " 

"  To  make  me  —  to  make  all  people  do 
right,  I  believe." 

"  True  ;  and  how  do  rewards  make  you,  or 
make  other  people,  do  right  ?  " 

"  Why, "  Frank  paused,  and  con- 
sidered a  little  while. 

"Papa>  you    know   I  like,   and   all  other 


152  EARLY    LESSONS. 

people  like,  to  have  rewards,  because  they 
are  always  pleasures  ;  and,  when  I  know  I 
am  to  have  a  reward,  or  when  I  hope,  even, 
that  I  shall  be  rewarded  for  doing  any  right 
thing,  I  wish,  and  try,  to  do  it ;  and,  if  I 
have  been  rewarded  once,  I  think  I  shall  be 
rewarded  again  for  doing  the  same  sort  of 
thing  again  ;  and,  therefore,  I  wish  to  do  it. 

"  And  even,  if  I  have  not  had  the  reward 
myself,  if  I  have  seen  another  person  reward- 
ed for  doing  something  well,  I  think  and 
hope  that,  perhaps,  I  may  have  the  same  if  I 
do  the  same,  and  that  makes  me  wish  to  do 
it.  When  you  gave  John,  the  gardener's 
boy,  a  little  watering  pot,  because  he  had 
made  a  net  for  the  cherry-trees,  1  remember 
I  wished  to  make  a  net  too,  because  I  hoped 
that  you  would  give  me  a  watering  pot ;  and 
when  mamma  praised  my  brother  Edward, 
and  gave  him  a  table,  with  a  drawer  in  it,  as 
a  reward  for  keeping  his  room  in  order.  I  be- 
gan to  try  to  keep  my  room  in  better  order  ; 
and  you  know,  Edward,  I  have  kept  it  in 
order,  in  better  order,  ever  since,  papa ;  that 
is  all  I  can  think  of,  about  the  use  of  rewards 
—  I  cannot  explain  it  better." 

"  You  have  explained  it  as  well  as  I  ex- 
pected that  you  could,  Frank.  Now  run  off 
to  your  hut,  or  your  house,  whichever  you 
please  to  call  it." 


FRANK.  153 

Frank  found  that  there  were  holes  in  the 
thatch  of  his  house,  and  that,  when  it  rained, 
the  rain  came  through  these  holes  and  wetted 
him,  and  spoiled  the  things  which  he  kept  in 
his  house  ;  therefore,  he  wished  to  mend  the 
thatch.  He  went  to  his  father,  and  asked 
him  if  he  would  be  so  good  as  to  give  him 
some  straw. 

His  father  said  that  he  would,  if  Frank 
would  do  something  for  him  which  he  want- 
ed to  have  done. 

"  I  will  do  any  thing  I  can  for  you,  papa," 
said  Frank.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Look  at  these  laburnums,  Frank,"  said 
his  father.  "  Do  you  see  a  number  of  black- 
ish, dry  pods  hanging  from  the  branches  ? " 

"  Yes,  papa,  a  great  number." 

"  Do  you  know  what  those  pods  contain  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  little,  black,  shining  seeds ;  the 
seeds  of  the  laburnum-tree." 

"I  want  to  have  all  those  seeds,  that  I 
may  sow  them  in  the  ground,  and  that  I 
may  have  more  laburnum-trees.  Now, 
Frank,  if,  before  the  sun  sets  this  evening, 
you  bring  me  all  those  seeds,  I  will  give  you 
straw  enough  to  mend  the  thatch  of  your 
house." 

"  Thank  you,  papa.  I  will  work  very 
hard,  and  gather  them  as  fast  as  1  can." 

Frank  ran  for  his  basket,  and  began  to  pluck 
the  pods  from  the  lower  branches  of  one  of 
the  laburnums.  Soon  he  had  filled  his  basket 


154  EARLY    LESSONS. 

with  the*  pods ;  and  then  those  which  he 
tried  to  cram  in  at  the  top  of  the  basket 
sprang  up  again,  and  fell  over  the  sides  ;  so 
he  began  to  make  a  heap  on  the  ground  of 
the  pods  which  he  afterwards  pulled  from  the 
tree.  When  he  had  finished  gathering  all 
that  he  could  reach  from  the  lower  branches 
of  one  tree,  he  went  to  the  lower  branches 
of  the  next,  and  made  a  heap  under  that 
tree ;  and  so  on.  There  were  nine  labur- 
num-trees ;  and  when  he  had  got  to  the  ninth 
tree,  and  was  pulling  the  seeds  from  that,  he 
heard  a  rustling  noise  behind  him  ;  and,  turn- 
ing round,  he  saw  Pompey,  the  little  dog, 
dragging  the  laburnum  seeds  about  in  his 
mouth. 

"  O  Pompey  !  Pompey !  let  those  alone  !  " 
cried  Frank. 

But  as  fast  as  he  drove  him  from  one  heap, 
Pompey  ran  to  another,  and  scratched  and 
scattered  about  the  heaps  with  his  feet,  and 
snatched  up  the  pods  in  his  mouth,  and 
scampered  with  them  over  the  garden,  while 
Frank  ran  after  him ;  till  at  last  he  caught 
the  dog ;  and,  in  spite  of  Pompey's  strug- 
gling, carried  him  out  of  the  garden,  and  shut 
the  door.  When  he  had  put  Pompey  out,  he 
collected  all  his  pods  together  again  ;  and, 
just  when  he  had  done  so,  the  gardener 
opened  the  garden  door,  and  Pompey  was 
squeezing  in  between  the  gardener's  legs ; 
but  Frank  called  aloud,  to  beg  that  the  gar- 


FRANK. 


dener  would  keep  him  out ;  and,  every  time 
any  body  opened  the  garden  door,  Frank  was 
obliged  to  watch,  and  to  call  to  them,  making 
the  same  request.  This  was  so  troublesome, 
and  interrupted  him  so  often,  that  Frank 
thought  it  would  be  better  to  carry  his  heaps 
of  pods  into  his  garden  house,  and  lock  the 
door,  so  that  Pompey  could  not  get  in  to  pull 
them  about.  Frank  carried  the  heaps,  drop- 
ping many  pods  by  the  way,  and  going 
backwards  and  forwards  so  often,  that  this 
took  up  a  great  deal  of  time.  He  heard  the 
clock  strike  three. 

"  Three  o'clock  already  !  "  said  Frank  to 
himself,  looking  at  the  number  of  pods 
which  hung  on  the  upper  branches  of  the 
laburnums.  "  How  much  I  have  to  do,  and 
how  little  I  have  done !  O  Pompey !  Pompey ! 


156  EARLY    LESSONS. 

you  don't  know  the  mischief  you  have  done 
me,"  said  he,  as  the  dog  squeezed  his  way  in, 
when  the  gardener  again  opened  the  garden 
door. 

"  Indeed,  master,"  said  the  gardener,  "  I 
cannot  keep  him  out." 

"  Well,  Pompey,  come  in !  you  cannot  do 
me  any  more  harm.  Now  you  may  run 
snu  filing  about  the  garden  as  much  as  you 
please,  for  my  seeds  are  safe  locked  up." 

But,  though  the  pods  were  safe,  yet  it 
wasted  Frank's  time  sadly  to  lock  and  un- 
lock the  door  every  time  he  had  a  fresh 
basket-full  to  throw  into  the  house ;  and  he 
was  obliged  to  keep  the  basket  hanging  al- 
ways upon  his  arm,  lest  Pompey  should  get 
at  it.  Frank  lost  time,  also,  in  jumping  up 
and  down  every  five  minutes  from  the  stool, 
on  which  he  was  obliged  to  stand  to  reach 
the  pods  from  the  higher  branches,  and  mov- 
ing his  stool  from  place  to  place  took  up 
time.  Presently,  he  had  gathered  all  that  he 
could  reach  when  standing  upon  the  stool, 
even  when  he  stood  on  tiptoe,  and  stretched 
as  far  as  he  could  possibly  reach.  Then  there 
was  time  lost  in  fixing  a  step-ladder,  which 
his  father  lent  to  him,  upon  condition  that 
he  should  never  get  upon  it  till  he  had  fixed 
it  quite  steadily,  and  had  put  in  a  certain 
prop,  all  which  required  some  minutes  to 
settle  properly.  The  running  up  and  down 
this  ladder,  with  his  basket,  continually,  as  it 


FRANK  157 

was  filled,  tired  Frank,  and  delayed  him  so 
much,  that  he  got  on  with  his  business  very 
slowly,  though  he  worked  as  hard  as  he 
could. 

The  morning  passed,  and  the  evening 
came  ;  and,  after  dinner,  Frank  jumped  from 
his  chair  as  soon  as  the  table-cloth  was  taken 
away,- and  said  he  must  go  to  his  work,  for 
that  he  was  afraid  he  should  not  be  able  to 
finish  it  before  sunset.  His  brother  Edward 
and  his  three  cousins  said  that  they  would 
help  him,  if  his  father  had  no  objection.  His 
father  said  that  he  had  no  objection  ;  that  he 
would  be  glad  that  they  should  help  Frank, 
because  he  had  worked  hard,  and  had  been 
so  good  humored  when  the  little  dog  had 
hindered  him. 

Frank  ran  to  the  laburnum-trees,  followed 
by  his  brother  and  cousins,  rejoicing.  As  he 
went,  he  said,  "Now  we  shall  get  on  so 
quick!  as  quickly  as  we  did  when  you  all 
helped  me  to  move  the  flower-pots." 

"  Yes,"  said  Edward,  "  and  for  the  same 
reason." 

"  Yes,  because  there  are  so  many  of  us," 
said  Frank. 

"  And  for  another  reason,"  said  Edward. 

"  What  other  reason  ?  " 

"  Look,  and  you  will  see,"  said  his  father. 

Then  Edward  settled,  that  each  person 
should  do  so,  that  they  might  each  do  what 
they  could  do  best,  and  that  they  might  help 


158  EARLY    LESSONS. 

one  another,  and  do  what  they  wanted,  as 
quickly  as  they  could.  Edward  was  to  stand 
upon  the  ladder,  because  he  was  the  tallest, 
and  he  could  reach  most  easily  to  the  upper- 
most branches  of  the  tree  ;  he  was  not  obliged 
to  run  up  and  down  the  ladder,  to  carry  the 
seeds  ;  because  Frank  was  appointed  to  col- 
lect and  carry  the  pods  off,  as  fast  as  Edward 
gathered  and  threw  them  to  the  ground. 
Frederick  and  William  sat  on  the  grass  at  the 
door  of  the  hut,  where  the  great  heap  had 
been  collected  ;  and  it  was  Charles's  business 
to  supply  them  with  pods,  from  which  they 
shelled  the  seeds.  As  soon  as  Edward  had 
finished  pulling  all  the  seeds  from  the  trees, 
he  joined  Frederick  and  William,  and  helped 
to  shell  the  seeds  —  that  is,  to  pick  them  out  of 
the  pods ;  and  as  soon  as  Frank  had  brought 
from  underneath  the  trees  all  the  pods  that 
had  been  thrown  there,  he  was  set  to  open 
the  pods,  ready  for  the  pickers ;  and  Charles, 
who  had  by  this  time  brought  out  all  that 
were  in  the  hut,  was  now  employed  con- 
stantly in  collecting  and  throwing  into  a  heap 
the  empty  husks ;  because  it  was  found,  that 
time  had  been  lost  in  searching  the  empty 
husks,  which  had  been  often  mistaken,  at 
first  sight,  for  full  pods. 

"Ay,"  said  Frank,  "now  I  see  the  other 
reason  that  you  meant,  Edward ;  I  see  why 
we  go  on  so  quickly  and  well ;  because  each 


FRANK.  1 59 

person  does  one  thing,  and  the  thing  he  can 
do  best ;  so,  no  time  is  lost." 

No  time  was  lost.  And  they  finished  their 
work,  had  the  laburnum  seeds  shelled  and 
collected  in  a  brown  paper  bag,  and  all  the 
rubbish  and  husks  cleared  away,  just  as  the 
s"un  was  setting. 

"Here  are  mamma  and  papa  coming  to  see 
if  we  have  done  !  "  cried  Frank ;  "  and  we 
have  done.  Come,  papa;  come  as  quickly 
as  you  please ;  here  are  the  seeds  all  ready ! 
But  do  you  know,  papa,"  continued  Frank, 
as  he  put  the  bag  of  seeds  into  his  father's 
hands,  "  it  was  as  much  as  ever  we  could  do  ? 
for  I  lost  so  much  time  this  morning.  It  was 
all  we  could  do  to  make  up  for  it  this  even- 
ing. And,  though  there  were  so  many  of  us, 
and  though  we  all  went  on  as  fast  as  we 
could,  I  am  sure  we  should  never  have  fin- 
ished it  in  time  if  we  had  not  managed  as 
we  have  done." 

His  father  asked  him  in  what  manner  they 
had  managed.  Frank  explained,  and  showed 
how  they  had  divided  the  work  among  them, 
so  as  to  save  time.  His  father  told  him  that 
manufacturers  and  workmen,  who  are  obliged 
to  do  a  great  deal  of  work  in  a  short  time, 
always,  if  they  are  wise,  help  one  another, 
and  save  time,  in  the  same  manner  that  he 
and  his  brother  and  cousins  had  done.  "  And 
this,"  added  he,  turning  to  Edward  "  this  is 
what  is  called  the  division  of  labor 


160  EARLY   LESSONS. 

"In  making  this  pin,"  continued  he,  taking 
a  pin  from  Frank's  mother,  —  "in  making 
a  pin,  eighteen  different  workmen  are  em- 
ployed. In  a  manufactory  for  making  pins, 
each  workman  does  that  part  which  he  can 
do  best.  One  man  draws  out  the  wire,  of 
which,  the  pins  are  made  ;  another  straight- 
ens it ;  a  third  cuts  it ;  a  fourth  grinds  it  at 
the  top,  ready  to  receive  the  heads.  To  make 
the  heads,  requires  the  different  work  of  two 
or  three  men.  Another  man's  business  is  to 
put  on  the  heads  ;  another's,  to  sharpen  the 
points  ;  and  sticking  the  pins  in  the  papers  is 
a  business  by  itself.  Now,  one  workman,  if 
he  was  to  try  to  make  a  pin,  without  any 
assistance  from  others,  could  not,  probably, 
make  a  single  pin ;  certainly  he  would  not  be 
able  to  make  twenty  in  a  day.  But,  with 
even  nine  men  to  assist  him,  dividing  the 
labor  amongst  them,  as  I  have  described  to 
you,  they  could,  altogether,  make  forty-eight 
thousand  pins  in  a  day  ;  so  that  each  of  the 
ten  men  might  be  reckoned  to  make  four 
thousand  eight  hundred  pins." 

"  Ten  men  make  forty-eight  thousand 
pins  in  a  day  !  "  cried  Frank  ;  "  and  one  man 
four  thousand  eight  hundred  pins  !  O  papa  ! 
is  this  true  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it  is  true,"  said  his  father. 
"When  we  go  in,  your  brother  Edward  shall 
read  to  us  an  account  of  this,  if  he  likes  it 


FRANK.  161 

from  the  book  in  which  I  read  it.*  But, 
Frank,  look  !  what  comes  here  !  "  added  his 
father,  pointing  to  a  laborer,  who  now  came 
into  the  garden  with  a  great  bundle  of  straw. 
"  Where  would  you  like  to  have  it  put  ?  " 

Frank  chose  to  have  it  in  his  garden 
house  ;  and  his  father  ordered  that  it  should 
be  put  there.  Then  Frank  thanked  his 
brother  and  cousins  for  helping  him  so  kindly ; 
and  he  said,  that  he  thought  he  should  never 
forget  the  advantage  of  the  division  of  labor. 


Some  time  ago,  Frank  had  told  his  father 
that  he  would  persevere  in  trying  to  learn 
to  read,  that  he  might  be  able  to  employ 
and  to  entertain  himself.  He  did  as  he 
said  that  he  would  do.  He  persevered,  till 
he  had  learned  to  read  quite  easily.  Then 

*  "  I  have  seen  a  small  manufactory  of  this  kind,"  (  viz.,  of 
pin-making,)  "  where  ten  men  only  were  employed,  and  where 
some  of  them,  consequently,  performed  two  or  three  distinct 
operations.  But,  though  they  were  very  poor,  and  therefore 
but  indifferently  accommodated  with  the  necessary  machinery, 
they  could,  when  they  exerted  themselves,  make,  among  them, 
about  twelve  pounds  of  pins  in  a  day.  There  are,  in  a  pound, 
upwards  of  four  thousand  pins,  of  a  middle  size.  Those  ten 
persons,  therefore,  could  make  upwards  of  forty-eight  thousand 
pins  in  a  day.  Each  person;  therefore,  making  a  tenth  part  of 
forty-eight  thousand  pins,  might  be  considered  as  making  four 
thousand  eight  hundred  pins  in  a  day.  But,  if  they  had  all 
wrought  separately  and  independently,  and  without  any  of  them 
having  been  educated  to  this  peculiar  business,  they  certainly 
could  not,  each  of  them,  have  made  twenty,  perhaps  not  one 
pin  in  a  day  ;  that  is,  certainly,  not  the  two  hundred  and  fortieth 
part  of  what  they  are  at  present  capable  of  performing,  in  con- 
sequence of  a  proper  division  and  combination  of  their  differen 
operations." —  Smith's  Wealth  of  Natwns,  vol.  i.  p.  fi,  quarto  ed 

14 


J()2  EARLV    LESSONS. 

he  read,  in  books  which  his  rr other  lent 
him,  accounts  of  the  camel ;  of  which,  ever 
since  he  had  seen  the  print  of  it,  he  had 
wished  to  know  the  history.  He  read,  also, 
entertaining  accounts  of  the  elephant,  and  of 
many  other  animals.  In  the  books  which 
were  lent  -to  him,  he  read  only  what  he  could 
understand  ;  when  he  came  to  any  thing  that 
he  did  not  understand,  he  asked  his  father  or 
mother  to  explain  it  to  him.  If  they  had  not 
time  to  attend  to  him,  or  to  answer  his  ques- 
tions, he  went  on  to  some  other  part  of  the 
book,  which  he  could  understand  ;  or  he  left 
off  reading,  and  went  to  do  something  else. 
Whenever  he  felt  tired  of  reading,  or  when- 
ever he  wanted  to  hear  or  see  something 
that  was  going  on  in  the  room  with  him,  and 
found  that  he  could  not  attend  to  what  he 
was  reading,  he  always  shut  the  book  and 
put  it  away  ;  he  never  kept  the  book  before 
him  when  he  was  tired,  or  sleepy,  or  when 
he  was  thinking  of  something  else. 

So  Frank  became  very  fond  of  reading. 

He  could  now  employ  himself  happily 
on  rainy  days,  when  he  could  not  run  out 
of  doors,  or  when  he  had  no  one  to  talk  or 
to  play  with  in  the  house.  At  night,  when 
the  candles  came,  and  when  all  the  rest  of 
the  family  began  to  read,  Frank  also  could 
read;  and  he  said, — 

"  Papa,  mw  I  am  as  happy  as  you  ara 


FRANK.  163 

when  the  candles  come  !  Thank  you,  mam- 
ma, for  teaching  me  to  read." 

His  mother  gave  him  a  book  called  "  The 
Book  of  Trades"  When  she  gave  it  to 
him,  she  said  to  him,  — 

"  Frank,  there  are  many  parts  of  this  book 
which  you  cannot  yet  understand  ;  but  you 
will,  I  think,  be  entertained  by  looking  over 
the  prints  of  the  men  and  women  at  work  at 
their  different  trades,  and  you  will  understand 
some  of  the  descriptions  of  what  they  are 
doing." 

Frank  thanked  his  mother,  and  he  looked 
over  all  the  prints  in  the  four  volumes  of  this 
book.  He  looked  at  each  print  carefully, 
and  examined  every  thing  in  it  before  he 
turned  over  the  leaf,  to  look  for  another. 

He  was  pleased  with  the  print  of  the 
chandler,  making  candles  ;  and  of  the  shoe- 
maker, making  shoes ;  and  of  the  turner, 
turning  at  his  lathe  ;  and  of  the  rope-maker, 
making  ropes  ;  and  of  the  weaver,  working 
at  his  loom.  After  he  had  looked  at  these 
prints,  he  read  some  of  the  explanations  and 
descriptions,  in  hopes  that  he  should  be  better 
able  to  understand  the  prints.  He  began 
with  the  chandler,  who,  as  his  mother  told 
him,  is  a  person  who  makes  candles;  and 
Frank  was  curious  to  know  how  candles  are 
made.  But  there  were  several  words,  in  this 
account  of  candle-making,  of  which  he  did 
not  know  the  meaning  ;  and  there  was  ono 


164  EARLY    LESSONS. 

whole  sentence,  about  bales  of  cotton  perform' 
ing  quarantine,  which  puzzled  him  sadly. 
His  mother  explained  to  him  several  of  the 
words  which  he  did  not  understand  ;  but  she 
told  him,  that  she  could  not  then  explain  to 
him  what  was  meant  by  performing  quaran- 
tine ;  and  that  he  could  understand  how 
candles  were  made,  without  having  this  sen- 
tence explained  to  him. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Frank,  "  I  do  now  know 
pretty  well  how  they  are  made ;  but  I  think 
I  should  understand  it  all  a  great  deal  better, 
if  I  were  to  see  it  done.  Mamma,  I  wish  I 
could  see  somebody  making  candles." 

A  few  days  afterwards,  Frank's  mother 
called  him  to  her,  and  told  him  that  the  cook 
was  going  to  make  some  candles.  "  Should 
you  like  to  see  them  made,  Frank  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  much  indeed  !  "  said  Frank  ; 
"  thank  you,  mamma,  for  calling  me." 

Then  his  mother  took  him  to  the  room 
where  the  cook  was  preparing  to  make  mould 
candles.  The  first  thing  he  saw  was  a  large 
saucepan,  which  the  cook  had  taken  oft"  the 
fire  to  cool.  Frank  asked  what  was  in  the 
saucepan.  He  was  told  that  it  was  full  of 
melted  mutton-suet.  Some  suet,  which  had 
not  been  melted,  was  shown  to  him ;  he  said 
that  it  looked  like  cold  fat,  and  he  was  told 
that  this  suet  was  the  fat  of  mutton. 

The  next  thing  which  Frank  saw  was  a 
wooden  frame,  or  stand,  about  the  height  of 


FRANK.  165 

a  common  table.  In  this  stand  were  a  num- 
ber of  round  holes,  through  each  of  which 
hung  a  tube,  or  hollow  pipe,  of  pewter,  the. 
size  of  a  caudle.  These  hollow  pipes  were 
taper ;  that  is,  narrower  at  one  end  than  at 
the  other,  and  growing  narrower  arid  narrower 
by  degrees.  The  largest  ends  were  upper- 
most, as  the  pipes  hung  in  the  frame  ;  so  that 
they  looked  like  the  shape  of  candles,  with 
the  part  that  is  usually  lighted  hanging  down- 
wards ;  at  the  narrow  end,  these  pewter 
tubes  were  made  in  the  shape  of  the  top 
of  a  tallow  candle,  before  it  is  lighted. 

"  Mamma,  I  know  what  this  is !  "  cried 
Frank  ;  "  and  I  know  what  it  is  for.  It  is  the 
same  sort  of  thing  which  I  saw  in  the  print 
of  the  tallow  chandler,  in  the  Book  of  Trades. 
These  pipes  are  the  moulds  in  which  the 
candles  are  to  be  made ;  the  melted  stuff — the 
melted  suet  —  is  to  be  poured  into  this  open 
mouth,  and  it  runs  all  the  way  down,  down. 
Then  it  is  left  to  cool,  and  then  it  is  pulled  out, 
and  the  candle  is  made ;  this  broadest  end  is 
the  bottom  of  the  candle,  which  is  to  go  into 
the  candlestick,  and  this  narrow  end  the  top.; 
it  is  hanging  upside-down  now.  You  see  I 
understand  it  all,  mamma !  " 

<k  Stay,  Frank  ;  do  not  be  in  such  a  hurry ; 
do  not  be  too  quick.  You  do  not  understand 
it  all,  yet.  You  have  not  observed  or  dis- 
covered some  things,  in  these  moulds,  which 
are  necessary  to  be  known  ;  and  you  have 


166  EARLY    LESSONS. 

forgotten  the  most  material  part  of  a  can- 
dle." 

"  What  can  that  be,  mamma?  Tell  me, 
pray." 

"  I  would  rather  that  you  should  think, 
and  find  it  out  for  yourself,  Frank." 

Frank  considered  a  little,  and  then  an- 
swered, — 

"  Mamma,  I  have  thought  of  every  thing, 
and  I  can  think  of  nothing  else.  Here  are  the 
moulds,  and  the  melted  grease,  which  is  to 
be  poured  into  the  moulds,  to  make  the 
candle.  What  can  be  wanting  ?  " 

"  How  would  you  light  the  candle  ?  "  said 
his  mother. 

"  By  the  wick,  to  be  sure  !  O  the  wick  ! 
I  forgot  the  wick  !  Where  is  the  wick  ? 
What  is  the  wick  made  of  ? " 

"  It  is  made  of  cotton.  Look  here,  mas- 
ter !  "  said  the  cook,  showing  him  a  ball  of 
coarse  cotton. 

"  And  how  do  you  get  this  cotton  into  the 
middle  of  the  candle  ?  " 

"  That  I  will  show  you,  sir,"  said  the  cook. 

She  then  took  one  of  the  candle-moulds 
out  of  the  wooden  frame,  in  which  it  hung ; 
and  Frank  looked  at  the  narrow  end,  which 
had  hung  downwards,  and  he  saw,  at  the 
bottom,  a  little  hole  ;  and  he  said,  — 

"  Here  is  a  little  hole ;  this  must  be 
stopped,  or  else  all  the  melted  tallow  will  run 
through  it.  Shall  I  stop  it  up  with  this  bit 


FRANK.  167 

of  paper,  mamma?  I  will  roll  it  up  and 
make  a  stopper,  shall  I  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,  master  !  "  said  the  cook. 
"  You  shall  see  how  I  will  stop  it  up." 

Then  she  doubled  the  cotton,  which  she 
held  in  her  hand ;  and  she  cut  off  as  much  as 
would  reach  from  one  end  of  the  candle- 
mould  to  the  other,  and  a  little  more.  Then 
she  put  the  cotton,  just  where  she  had 
doubled  it,  in  at  the  broadest  end  of  the 
mould,  and  she  let  it  fall  all  down  the  pipe, 
to  the  small  hole,  at  the  narrow  end  ;  and  by 
means  of  a  wire,  she  drew  the  cotton  through 
the  hole,  leaving  a  loop  of  cotton,  as  long  as 
that  which  is  commonly  seen  at  the  wick  of 
a  tallow  candle  which  has  not  been  lighted. 
Then  she  stuck  a  peg  of  wood  into  the  little 
hole ;  this  peg,  together  with  the  cotton 
which  had  been  put  through  the  hole, 
stopped  it  up  completely,  so  that  none  of  the 
melted  tallow  could  rim  through  it.  She 
next  tied  the  other  ends  of  the  cotton  to- 
gether, and  put  a  small  bit  of  wood,  like  a 
skewer,  through  the  loop  which  she  had 
made  by  tying  the  cotton  together.  This 
skewer  lay  across  the  broad  end  of  the 
mould,  and  fitted  into  .  two  notches,  in  the 
outer  rim  of  the  mould,  at  opposite  sides. 
The  cotton  was  now  tight  in  the  mould, 
from  top  to  bottom.  Frank  looked  into  the 
mould,  and  saw  that  it  was  so. 

"  Cook,  why  are  you  so  careful  to  make 


108  EARLY    LESSONS. 

the  cotton  tight,  and  to  put  it  just  in  the 
middle  of  the  mould  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"  That  the  wick  of  my  candle  may  be  in 
the  middle,"  said  the  cook.  "  In  good  can- 
dles, the  wick  must  always  be  in  the  middle." 

When  the  cook  had  put  cotton,  in  the  same 
manner,  into  all  the  moulds,  she  was  ready  to 
pour  the  melted  tallow  into  them.  Frank 
was  afraid  that  the  tallow  had  grown  cold, 
because  the  saucepan,  in  which  it  was,  had 
been  taken  off  the  fire  some  time.  But  the 
cook  said,  it  was  quite  warm  enough  ;  that 
it  would  not  make  good  candles  if  it  was 
very  hot.  As  Frank  now  went  close  to  the 
large  saucepan,  he  saw  that  there  was  a 
smaller  saucepan  withinside  of  it.  The  small- 
er saucepan  held  the  melted  tallow ;  and, 
between  the  large  and  the  smaller  saucepan, 
the  space  was  filled  with  water ;  both  at 
the  sides  and  at  the  bottom,  between  the 
small  and  large  saucepan,  there  was  water. 
Frank  asked  the  reason  of  this. 

The  cook  answered,  "  Master,  it  is  to  hin- 
der my  tallow  from  burning,  or  being  made 
too  hot ;  which  would  spoil  it,  as  I  told  you." 

"  But  how  does  the  water  hinder  the  tal- 
low from  being  made  too  hot  ?  for  the  water 
is  hot  itself,  is  it  not  ? " 

"  It  is,  master ;  but  still  it  keeps  the  tallow 
from  being  too  hot ;  I  can't  say  how  ;  but  I 
know  it  is  so,  and  I  always  do  it  so." 


FRANK. 


169 


"  But  I  ask  the  reason ;  I  want  to  know 
the  reason,  mamma,"  said  Frank. 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  explain  the  reason  to 
you  some  other  time,  my  dear,"  said  his 
mother ;  "  but,  first,  let  us  look  at  what  the 
cook  is  doing,  that  you  may  not  miss  seeing 
how  candles  are  made." 

Frank  looked,  and  he  saw  the  cook  replace 
all  the  pewter  moulds  in  the  wooden  frame, 
with  the  narrow  ends  downwards,  and  the 
broadest  ends  uppermost ;  and  into  the  open 
mouth  of  the  broadest  end,  which  was  upper- 
most, she  poured,  carefully  and  slowly,  the 
15 


170  EARLY    LESSONS. 

melted  tallow,  from  the  spout  of  the  sauce- 
pan, into  each  of  the  candle-moulds.  She 
poured  it  not  over  the  cotton,  at  the  top,  but 
on  each  side  of  it,  so  as  to  leave  the  cotton, 
and  the  skewer  that  was  put  through  it, 
standing  above  the  grease,  when  the  mould 
was  rilled  nearly  to  the  top.  When  this  was 
done,  the  cook  said  that  they  must  leave  the 
tallow  to  cool ;  and  that  it  would  be  some 
time  before  it  would  be  cool. 

Frank  went  away  with  his  mother,  and  he 
asked  her  if  she  could  now  answer  the  ques- 
tion about  the  hot  water.  But  just  then  his 
father  called  her,  and  she  had  not  time  to 
answer  Frank. 

She  was  busy  the  rest  of  the  morning,  and 
Frank  went  to  his  garden,  and  worked  in  it : 
when  he  was  tired  of  working,  he  trundled 
his  hoop  upon  the  walk,  and  kept  it  up  till 
he  was  tired  of  running  after  it.  It  began  to 
rain ;  and  then  he  went  into  the  house,  and 
learned  by  heart  some  of  the  multiplication 
table,  which  his  mother  had  desired  him  to 
learn. 

Some  company  dined,  this  day,  with  his 
father  and  mother ;  and  his  mother  could  not 
talk  to  him  again  till  after  the  company  had 
gone  away,  in  the  evening.  Frank  was  glad 
when  the  company  was  gone,  and  when  his 
mother  had  again  time  to  attend  to  him. 


FRANK.  171 

The  next  day,  Frank  asked  his  mother  to 
take  him  to  look  at  the  candles  ;  he  said  that 
he  hoped  the  cook  had  not  taken  them  out  of 
the  moulds,  for  he  wished  to  see  that  done. 
The  cook  had  not  taken  them  out  ;  for  his 
mother  had  desired  that  she  should  not  do 
this  till  Frank  should  be  present.  The  first 
thing  the  cook  did  was  to  pull  out  the  pegs, 
which  she  had  stuck  between  the  cotton  of 
the  wick  into  the  little  holes,  at  the  smallest 
end  of  the  moulds;  then  she  took  hold  of  the 
cotton  loop,  through  which  the  bit  of  stick 
had  been  put,  at  the  larger  end  of  the  mould, 
and  she  drew  it  up  gently ;  and  with  the 
cotton  came  the  tallow,  out  of  the  mould,  in 
the  shape  of  a  candle ;  and  as  it  came  out, 
Frank  exclaimed,  — 

"  It  is  a  real  candle,  indeed  !  Shall  we 
light  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  my  dear.  It  is  not  hard  enough. 
It  must  be  hung  up  for  two  or  three  days,  be- 
fore it  will  be  fit  to  be  used." 

The  cook  drew  all  the  candles  out  of  the 
moulds,  and  she  hung  them  up  to  harden. 

"Well,  now,  mamma,  I  have  observed 
carefully  all  that  has  been  done  ;  and  I  have 
not  been  too  quick,  have  I  ?  I  have  learned 
something  accurately,  as  you  say.  Now  I 
know  how  to  make  candles  !  " 

"  You  have  seen  how  candles  are  made  , 
that  is,  you  have  seen  how  mould  candles  are 
made.  These  are  called  mould  candles  be- 


172  EARLY    LESSONS. 

cause  they  are  made  in  a  mould  ;  but  there 
are  other  ways  of  making  candles." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  the  man  in  the  Book  of 
Trades  says,  that  there  are  dipped  candles,  as 
well  as  mould  candles." 

"  Yes,  master,"  said  the  cook  ;  "  the  dipped 
candles  are  made  by  dipping  the  wick  into  the 
tallow,  then  letting  it  dry,  and  then  dipping  it, 
again  into  the  tallow  ;  and  every  time,  more 
and  more  sticks  to  the  candle  ;  and  it  is  left 
to  dry,  between  every  dipping ;  till,  at  last, 
it  is  the  size  the  candle  should  be.  Then, 
besides  dipped  candles,  and  mould  candles, 
there  are  rushlights,  master ;  such  as  the 
poor  people  use  here,  in  their  cottages,  you 
know." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Frank.  "  Tell  me, 
what  are  rushlights  ?  Are  they  made  of 
rushes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  O,  tell  me  how  they  are  made  !  " 

"  If  I  can,  I  will  take  you  this  evening  to 
the  cottage  of  that  good-natured  old  woman 
who  showed  you  her  spinning-wheel,"  said 
Frank's  mother ;  "  and  I  will  ask  her  to  show 
you  how  rushlights  are  made." 

"  Thank  you,  mamma.  Are  there  any 
other  sorts  of  candles  ?  " 

"  There  is  another  sort,  which  you  have 
seen,  and  that  is  not  made  of  tallow." 

"  I  recollect  —  wax  candles,  mamma." 

"  They  may  be  made  nearly  in  the  same 


FRANK.  173 

manner  that  dipped  tallow  candles  are  made 
—  only  that  melted  wax  is  poured  over  the 
wick,  instead  of  the  wick  being  dipped  into 
the  wax.  The  wax  candle  is  rolled  upon  a 
smooth  table,  to  make  it  smooth  and  round. 
There  are  other  ways  of  making  wax- 
candles  ;  but  I  will  not  tell  you  any  more  at 
present,  lest  you  should  not  be  able  to  re- 
member all  that  you  have  seen  and  heard." 

"  But,  mamma,  tell  me  one  thing  more," 
said  Frank,  as  he  followed  his  mother  up 
stairs.  "  Wax,  I  know,  is  made  by  bees,  and 
wax  candles  are  made  of  wax ;  but  there  is 
another  kind  of  wax  candle,  or  of  candle  that 
looks  like  wax.  It  has  a  long,  hard  name, 
which  I  cannot  remember." 

"  Do  you  mean  spermaceti  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  spermaceti.     What  is  that  ?  " 

"  Spermaceti  is  a  fatty  substance  prepared 
from  the  brain  of  a  species  of  whale.  You 
have  seen  the  print  of  a  whale,  and  have  read 
an  account  of  a  whale  ?  " 

"Yes;  the  great  fish — the  largest  of 
fishes  —  I  remember :  I  never  should  have 
guessed  that  candles  were  made  from  any 
part  of  a  fish.  Mamma,  what  a  number  of 
things  we  must  know,  before  we  can  know 
well  how  any  one  thing  is  made,  or  done." 

"  Very  true,  my  dear  little  boy  ;  and  I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  wish  to  acquire,  or  get 
knowledge." 

His  mother  could  not  talk  to  him  any  more 


174 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


this  morning ;  but,  in  the  evening,  she  called 
him,  and  said,  "  Now,  Frank,  you  may  walk 
with  your  father  and  me  to  Mrs.  Wheel- 
er's cottage." 

"  To  the  good-natured  old  woman's  ?  O, 
I  am  glad  of  that,  mamma !  "  said  Frank. 

He  ran  for  his  hat,  and  he  was  ready  in  an 
instant  ;  for  he  was  happy  to  go  with  his 
father  and  mother.  It  was  a  fine  evening, 
arid  the  walk  was  pleasant,  through  pretty 
paths,  in  green  fields  ;  and  there  were  several 
stiles,  which  Frank  liked  to  get  over.  He 
showed  his  father  how  quickly  he  could  get 
over  them. 

"  Look,  papa,  how  well  I  can  jump  !  how 
I  can  vault  over  this  stile  !  You  know,  you 
said  that  men  ought  to  be  active  ;  now,  papa, 
am  not  I  active  ?  " 

Frank  ran  on,  without  waiting  for  an 
answer ;  and  he  ran  till  he  came  to  a  rivulet, 
or  a  little  river,  or  brook,  which  crossed  the 
path.  There  he  stopped,  and  stood  still,  for 
there  was  only  a  narrow  plank,  or  board, 
across  the  stream ;  and  the  hand-rail,  by 
which  Frank  used  to  hold  when  he  walked 
over,  had  been  broken  since  he  had  last  been 
at  this  place.  The  rail  had  fallen  into  the 
water,  and  there  was  nothing  by  which 
Frank  could  hold.  His  father  and  mother 
came  up  to  him. 

"  Frank,"  said  his  father,  "  what  is  the 
matter  ?  You  look  very  melancholy." 


FRANK. 


"  Yes,  papa  ;  because  I  am  afraid  we  must 
turn  back.  We  cannot  go  on." 

"  Why  not,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Look  at  this  broken  bridge,  papa  —  " 

"  Broken  hand-rail  of  a  bridge,  you  mean, 
Frank.  The  bridge  is  not  broken.  This 
plank  is  as  broad  and  as  strong  as  it  was  be- 
fore ;  and  you  know  you  have  walked  over  it 
safely.  You  see  it  will  bear  my  weight, 
and  I  am  much  heavier  than  you  are,"  said 
his  father,  standing  on  the  plank. 

"  Yes,  papa ;  so  I  see." 

"  And  you  see,"  said  his  father,  walking 
over  the  bridge,  —  "  you  see  that  I  can  walk 
over  it,  though  there  is  no  hand-rail." 


176  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  Yes,  papa,  so  I  see,"  said  Frank  ;  but  he 
stood  still,  without  attempting  to  follow  his 
father. 

"  Come  on,  my  boy,"  said  his  father  ;  "  un- 
less you  mean  to  stand  there  all  night." 

"  No,  papa  —  yes,  papa. Mamma,  will 

you  go  first  ?  " 

His  mother  went  over  the  bridge ;  still 
Frank  felt  afraid  to  follow  ;  but  when  his 
father  said,  "  Men  ought  to  be  brave ;  boys 
should  conquer  their  fears,"  Frank  tried  to 
conquer  his  fear  ;  and  he  put  his  foot  upon 
the  bridge,  and  his  father  held  out  his  hand 
to  him,  and  he  walked  on,  slowly  at  first,  and 
quicker  afterwards,  till  he  got  quite  across. 
Then  he  said,  — 

"  Papa,  I  will  go  back  again,  and  do  it 
better." 

He  went  back  again,  and  walked  quite 
stoutly  over  the  plank ;  his  father  holding 
his  hand.  And  then  he  said,  — 

"  Papa,  I  will  do  it  without  holding  your 
hand." 

So  he  did.  And  he  went  backwards  and 
forwards  two  or  three  times,  till  he  had  quite 
conquered  his  fear.  Then  he  felt  glad  and 
pleased  with  himself,  especially  when  his 
mother  smiled  upon  him,  and  said,  — 

"  That  is  right,  Frank,  my  dear.  This 
puts  me  in  mind  of  a  little  boy  who  conquered 
his  fear,  as  you  have  done." 

"  Who  was  that,  mamma  ? ' 


FRANK.  177 

"  A  little  boy,  who  was  younger  than  you 
are." 

"  Was  it  a  real  boy,  mamma  ? And  is 

it  a  true  story  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  true  story,  of  a  real  boy.  He  \vas 
about  five  years  old." 

"  Much  younger  than  I  am !  "  cried  Frank. 
—  "  Well,  mamma." 

"  When  this  little  boy  was  taken  to  the 
sea-shore,  to  be  bathed,  for  the  first  time,  in 
the  sea,  he  was  afraid,  when  he  saw  the  wave 
of  the  sea  coming,  and  when  he  felt  it  going 
over  him." 

"  So  should  I  have  been,  I  dare  say, 
mamma." 

"  But  he  was  ashamed  of  having  been 
afraid,  and  he  was  determined  to  conquer  his 
fear ;  and  he  turned  to  the  sea,  and  said, 
'  Wave,  do  that  again  !  Wave,  come  over  me 
again ! '  And  the  next  time  he  showed  no 
fear." 

"  What  was  the  name  of  the  boy,  mamma, 
and  who  were  his  father  and  mother  ?  " 

"I  cannot  tell  you  their  names,  my  dear; 
but  I  can  tell  you  that  the  boy  is  son  to  the 
greatest  general,  the  greatest  hero,  in  Eng- 
land." 

"The  greatest  hero?  O!  then  I  know 
who  he  is,  mamma." 


When   they  came  to  Mrs.  Wheeler's  cot- 


178  EARLY    LESSONS. 

tage,  Frank's  father  went  into  a  field,  near 
the  house,  with  the  old  woman's  son,  to  look 
at  a  fine  crop  of  oats ;  and  Frank's  mother 
took  him  into  the  house,  where  they  found 
Mrs.  Wheeler  getting  ready  her  grandson's 
supper.  She  stopped  doing  what  she  was 
about,  when  she  saw  Frank  and  his  mother. 
She  looked  glad  to  see  them,  and  said  — 
"You  are  welcome,  madam;  you're  wel- 
come, master ;  be  pleased  to  sit  down." 
Then  she  set  a  chair  for  madam,  and  a  little 
stool  for  master,  and  she  swept  the  hearth 
quite  clean  ;  and  she  called  to  a  little  girl,  of 
about  six  years  old,  who  was  in  the  room, 
and  bade  her  run  to  the  garden,  and  gather 
some  strawberries,  and  bring  them  in  for 
Frank.  Frank  thanked  this  good-natured 
old  woman  ;  but  he  said,  — 

"  I  did  not  come  to  beg  strawberries  ;  and, 
though  I  love  strawberries  very  much,  I  do 
not  wish  to  have  any  of  yours,  because  I  be- 
lieve you  have  but  very  few  for  yourself. 
What  I  want  you  to  do  for  me  is  to  show  me 
how  you  make  rush  candles." 

"  That  I  will  with  pleasure,  master,"  said 
Mrs.  Wheeler. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Wheeler,  first  finish  what  you 
were  about  when  we  came  in,"  said  Frank's 
mother  ;  "  I  believe  you  were  getting  ready 
your  supper." 

"It 'is  George's,  my  grandson's  supper, 
madam." 


FRANK.  179 

"  Then  it  is  not  fair,  that  your  George 
should  lose  his  supper  because  my  Frank 
wants  to  see  rushlights  made,"  said  Frank's 
mother,  smiling. 

"That  is  true,"  said  Frank  ;  "and  I  dare 
say,  that  her  George,  mamma,  will  be  very 
hungry  when  he  comes  in,  for  I  saw  him 
working  hard  in  the  fields  ;  and  I  am  always 
very  hungry  when  I  have  been  working 
hard.  Pray,  Mrs.  Wheeler,  finish  getting 
ready  George's  supper.  I  can  wait  as  long 
as  you  please  ;  and  I  wish  I  could  do  some- 
thing for  you,  as  you  are  going  to  do  some- 
thing for  me.  Let  me  carry  those  sticks  to 
the  fire  —  I  can  do  that  —  and  you  may  go 
on  with  your  cooking." 

"  God  bless  you,  master ;  "  said  the  old 
woman  ;  "  but  this  is  too  great  a  load  for  your 
little  arms." 

"  Let  me  try,"  said  Frank. 

"  Yes  ;  let  him  try,"  said  his  mother  ;  "  he 
loves  to  be  useful." 

"  And  I  am  useful  too !  "  cried  Frank, 
carrying  the  great  bundle  of  sticks  to  the  fire. 

His  mother  began  to  show  him  how  to  put 
them  on  the  fire. 

"  But,"  said  she,  "  some  of  these  are  wet, 
and  they  will  not  burn  readily." 

"  Ay,"  said  the  old  woman.  "I  am  afraid 
that  is  a  wet  bundle.  I  topk  it  from  the 
wrong  place ;  yonder,  in  that  corner,  are  all 
the  dry  fagots." 


180  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Prank  had  never  heard  the  word  fagots 
before,  and  he  did  not  hear  it  quite  plainly 
now ;  but  he  saw  what  the  old  woman 
meant,  because  she  pointed  to  the  place 
where  the  fagots  lay.  So  he  ran  directly  for 
another  bundle  of  sticks,  and  he  carried  it 
towards  the  fire ;  and,  throwing  it  down  be- 
side his  mother,  said,  — 

"  There,  mamma,  there's  another  maggot, 
and  a  dry  maggot,  for  you  !  " 

"  Fagot,  not  maggot"  said  his  mother. 

"Maggot!  "  cried  the  old  woman,  laugh- 
ing, with  her  arms  akimbo ;  "  Lord  bless  him ! 
don't  he  know  the  difference  between  a  mag- 
got and  a  fagot  ?  " 

"  What  is  the  difference  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"  Why,  master !  —  a  maggot !  —  Lord  help 
us !  "  — the  old  woman  began,  as  well  as  she 
could  speak  while  she  was  laughing. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Frank,  turning  to  his 
mother,  "  Mamma,  I  would  rather  you  would 
tell  me  ;  because  you  will  tell  me  without 
laughing  at  me." 

The  old  woman,  who  saw  that  Frank  did 
not  like  to  be  laughed  at,  but  who  could  not 
stop  herself,  turned  her  back,  that  he  might 
not  see  her ;  but  he  saw  her  sides  shaking 
all  the  time  his  mother  was  explaining  to 
him  the  difference  between  maggot  and 
fagot. 

"  A  maggot  is  a  small  worm  ;  and  a  fagot 
is  a  bundle  of  sticks." 


FRANK.  181 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  said  Frank. 

"  Well,  Frank,  now  I  have  told  you,  can 
you  tell  me,  what  is  a  maggot  and  what  is  a 
fagot  ? " 

"  A   maggot,  mamma,    is Mamma,  I 

did  not  hear  ;  I  could  not  attend  to  what  you 
said,  because " 

The  old  woman  walked  out  of  the  room, 
and  stood  laughing  in  the  passage. 

"Mamma,"  whispered  Frank,  "I  shall  not 
call  Mrs.  Wheeler  my  good-natured  old  wo- 
man any  more,  because  she  is  laughing 
at  me." 

"  Then,  Frank,  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  call 
you  my  good-humored  little  boy  any  more. 
What  harm  does  her  laughing  do  you, 
Frank  ?  Let  us  see  —  has  it  broken  any  of 
your  bones  ? " 

"No,"  said  Frank,  smiling  ;  "but  I  don't 
like  to  be  laughed  at  much ;  especially  for 
not  knowing  any  thing." 

"  Then,  to  avoid  being  laughed  at  again 
for  the  same  thing,  had  not  you  better  learn 
that  which  you  did  not  know  ?  " 

"  I  had.  Now,  mamma,"  said  Frank, 
turning  his  back  to  the  door,  so  that  he  could 
no  longer  see  Mrs.  Wheeler  —  "  now,  if  you 
will  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  again,  I  will  at- 
tend, if  I  possibly  can ;  but  I  was  so  much 

ashamed,  mamma " 

My  dear,"    said    his   mother,    "  there   is 


182  EARLY    LESSONS. 

nothing  shameful  in  not  knowing  the  mean- 
ing of  words  which  you  never  heard  before. 
When  you  have  not  done  any  thing  wrong  or 
foolish,  never  mind  being  laughed  at ;  a  man 
should  never  mind  being  laughed  at  for  a 
trifling  mistake." 

"  Mamma,  I  will  never  mind. Tell 

me  now,  and  I  will  show  you  I  never 
mind." 

His  mother  repeated  to  him  the  explana- 
tion of  the  two  words ;  and  as  soon  as  he 
knew  this,  he  ran  to  the  door,  and  called  out 
very  loud,  — 

"  A  maggot  is  a  small  worm ;  and  a  fagot  is 
a  bundle  of  sticks  !  You  need  not  laugh  any 
more,  Mrs.  Wheeler." 

"  O  master !  I  ask  your  pardon ;  I  will 
not  laugh  any  more ;  I  was  very  rude  ;  I  ask 
your  pardon.  But  I'm  foolish,  and  could 
not  help  it ;  I  hope  you  are  not  angry, 
master.  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Wheeler,  coming 
back  into  the  kitchen,  and  courtesying,  "  you 
are  not  angry,  madam." 

"  Mamma  is  not  angry  at  all,"  said  Frank, 
"  and  I  was  only  a  little  angry  ;  and  it  is  over 
now.  Come  in,  come  in,"  said  he,  pulling 
her  by  the  hand,  "  and  look  how  well  the 
fire  is  burning,  that  I  and  mamma  —  that 
mamma  and  I  made." 

"  Bless  your  little  soul,  that  forgives  and 
forgets  in  a  minute  !  "  said  the  old  woman 


FRANK.  1 83 

i£  I  wonder  Hannah  is  not  in  with  the  straw- 
berries." 

"  I  don't  want  the  strawberries  yet,"  said 
Frank  ;  "  you  have  not  put  the  pot  on  the 
fire,  to  boil  the  supper  for  George.  Won't 
you  put  it  on  now  ?  " 


FRANK 

PART   IV. 


MRS.  WHEELER  put  the  pot  on,  and,  while 
the  supper  was  boiling  for  George,  she 
showed  Frank  how  to  make  rushlights. 
First,  she  took  down  from  a  hook,  on  which 
they  hung,  a  bundle  of  rushes.  Frank  had 
seen  rushes  growing,  in  a  field  near  his 
father's  house  ;  and  he  had  gathered  ?jme 
of  them,  and  had  peeled  them  ;  and  he  knew 
that,  in  the  inside  of  the  rush,  there  is  a 
white,  soft  substance,  called  pith.  But  when 
he  had  attempted  to  peel  rushes,  he  had  al- 
ways been  a  great  while  about  it,  and  he  had 
seldom  been  able  to  peel  more  than  about 
the  length  of  his  finger  of  the  rush  without 
breaking  the  white  pith.  Mrs.  Wheeler  in 
an  instant  stripped  the  rush  of  its  thick 
green  outside,  all  except  one  narrow  stripe/ 
or  rind,  of  green,  which  she  left  to  support 
the  soft  pith  ;  and  she  peeled,  without  break- 
ing it,  the  whole  length  of  the  pith  con- 
tained in  the  rush,  which  was  almost  as  long 
as  Frank's  arm. 


FRANK.  185 

"  Can  you  guess,  Frank,  what  part  of  a 
candle  this  rush  is  to  be  ?  "  said  his  mother. 

Prank  thought  for  a  little  while,  and  then 
answered,  that  he  supposed  the  rush  would 
be  made  into  the  wick  of  the  candle,  and 
that  it  would  serve  instead  of  the  cotton 
which  he  had  seen  used  by  the  cook  in 
making  mould  candles. 

"Yes,  master,  you  have  guessed  right," 
said  Mrs.  Wheeler. 

Then  she  brought  from  a  corner  near  the 
fire  a  gresset,  or  small  pan,  in  which  there 
was  melted  grease.  Frank  gave  the  rush  to 
her,  to  dip  into  it ;  but  she  said  that  it  would 
not  make  a  good  rush  candle,  because  it  had 
not  been  left  to  dry  for  some  days.  She  took 
another  peeled  rush  from  a  bundle  which 
hung  up  in  a  press  by  the  fireside.  This, 
which  had  hung  there,  as  she  said,  for  two  or 
three  days,  was  drier,  and  less  white,  than 
that  which  had  been  freshly  peeled ;  she 
drew  the  rush  through  the  melted  grease,  and 
she  said,  — 

"  It  will  be  cool,  and  fit  to  bum,  in  about 
five  minutes." 

In  about  five  minutes  it  was  cool,  and  the 
old  woman  lighted  it,  and  it  burned  ;  but 
there  was  so  much  daylight  in  the  room,  as 
the  setting  sun  was  shining  full  upon  the 
window,  that  the  light  of  the  small  rush  can- 
dle could  scarcely  be  seen.  Therefore  Mrs. 
Wheeler  took  it  into  another  room,  at  the  op- 
16 


186  EARLY    LESSONS. 

posite  side  of  the  house,  where  the  sun  did 
not  shine  at  this  time.  There,  when  she  had 
shut  the  shutters,  the  flame  of  the  rushlight 
was  plainly  seen.  Frank  observed  that  this 
rush  candle  did  not  give  nearly  so  much 
light  as  a  thick  tallow  candle  did.  Mrs. 
Wheeler  said,  that  she  could  not  afford  to 
buy  tallow  candles  often,  and  that  these  rush- 
lights were  enough  for  her.  Frank  per- 
ceived that,  after  he  had  been  a  little  while 
in  this  room,  he  could  see  the  things  in  it 
better  than  he  did  when  the  shutters  were 
first  closed,  and  when  his  eyes  had  been 
dazzled  by  the  sunshine.  He  was  surprised 
to  find  that  he  could  make  out  the  words  at 
the  bottom  of  a  print  to  which  the  old  wo- 
man held  the  light. 

"  Mamma,  I  could  scarcely  see  it  before, 
and  now  I  can  see  it  quite  plainly,  and  I  will 
read  it  to  you." 

He  read  aloud,  — 

"For  want  of  a  nail,  the  shoe  was  lost ; 
For  want  of  a  shoe,  the  horse  was  lost." 

Just  as  Frank  got  to  "the  horse  was  lost,'' 
the  rushlight  was  burnt  out. 

"  O,  is  the  candle  gone  so  soon  ?  "  cried 
Frank.  "Mamma,"  continued  Frank,  turn- 
ing to  his  mother,  whilst  Mrs.  Wheeler 
opened  the  shutters,  "Mamma,  you  know 
such  a  candle  as  that  would  last,  at  home,  the 
whole  night;  several  hours  a  rush  candle 
lasts  at  home,  mamma." 


FRANK.  187 

"  Do  you  think  that  the  candles  being  at 
makes  any  difference  as  to  their  burn- 
ing ?  "  said  Frank's  mother,  smiling. 

"  No,  no,  mamma,"  said  Frank,  laughing  ; 
"  I  know  that  the  rush  candles,  which  we 
have  at  home,  would  burn  as  long  a  time  here 
as  they  do  at  our  house.  But  I  mean  that  ours 
burn  longer,  because  there  is  more  grease,  or 
tallow,  about  them.  Mamma,  if  there  was  no 
tallow  about  this  rush,  would  it  burn  at  all  ? 
or  would  it  burn  away  a  great  deal  sooner 
than  it  does  now  ?  " 

"  Try,  and  you  will  see,  my  dear,"  said  his 
mother. 

Mrs.  Wheeler  gave  Frank  a  peeled  rush, 
and  he  lighted  it  at  the  fire,  and  it  burned  ; 
but  the  flame  was  not  bright,  and  it  soon 
went  out.  Frank  dipped  it  into  the  grease, 
and  it  burned  better.  Mrs.  Wheeler  went  to 
see  if  George's  supper  was  ready ;  and  Frank 
continued  talking  to  his  mother  :  — 

"  Mamma,  I  believe  it  is  the  melted  grease 
that  burns,  and  makes  the  bright  flame  of  the 
candle  ;  but  I  do  not  know  how.  Mamma, 
what  becomes  of  the  grease,  or  the  tallow, 
when  the  candle  burns  ?  " 

'•  Do  not  you  see  the  smoke  that  rises 
from  the  top  of  the  flame  ?  "  said  his  mother. 

"  Yes,  mamma,  I  see  the  smoke ;  but 
what  has  that  to  do  with  what  I  asked 
you? " 

"  Do  you  not  know  what  that  smoke  is  ? 


188  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Do  not  you  remember  your  father's  showing 
you,  one  evening  after  tea,  the  difference  be- 
tween smoke  and  steam  ?  " 

"  I  remember,  mamma,  steam  comes  from 
water,  when  it  is  made  hot  ;  I  remember 
papa  showed  me  the  steam,  the  vapor  rising 
from  the  hot  water  in  the  tea-urn  ;  and  I 
recollect  papa  held  a  cold  plate  over  it,  and 
showed  me  that  the  cold  turned  the  vapor 
back  again  into  water;  I  saw  the  drops  of 
water  condensed;  I  remember  the  word. 
And  I  recollect  he  afterwards  held  a  plate  over 
the  candle,  and  said  that  what  rose  from  the 
candle  was  smoke,  not  steam ;  I  do  not  re- 
member about  the  smoke  ;  I  recollect  only 
that  the  plate  was  blackened  which  was  held 
over  the  candle,  and  that  the  plate  was  not 
wet ;  but  I  do  not  know  exactly  how  it  was." 

"  Did  you  never  hear  any  thing  more  about 
smoke  ?  "  said  his  mother. 

"  O  yes  !  I  recollect  papa  told  me  that 
smoke,  when  cold,  became  soot,  and  fell 
down  to  the  ground,  or  stuck  to  any  cold 
thing  that  was  near  it." 

"Just  so  the  smoke  of  the  candle  is  the 
vapor  of  melted  tallow,  which  boils  by  the 
heat  of  the  candle ;  and  when  this  vapor 
is  condensed  by  cold,  it  becomes  soot,  such  as 
^ou  see  sticking  to  the  ceilings,  where  many 
candles  are  used  ;  soot  is  frequently  collected, 
on  purpose,  upon  plates  held  over  lamps,  and 
is  then  called  lampblack." 


FKANK.  189 

"  Mamma,  once  I  saw,  in  the  little,  little 
barrel,  at  the  time  the  painter  was  going  to 
paint  the  black  board,  at  the  bottom  of  your 
room,  some  light,  black  powder.  Was  that 
lampblack  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  that  was  lampblack ;  and 
it  is  used  for  paint,  and  for  making  blacking 
for  shoes  and  boots." 

"  Very  well,  mamma,  I  understand  that ; 
but  I  want  to  go  back  to  the  candle ;  the 
melted  tallow  —  the  vapor  of  boiling  tallow  — 
makes  the  candle  burn,  and  keeps  the  candle 
burning.  Mamma,  I  do  not  know  how,  and 
why,  the  candle  burns.  And  what  is  the 
flame  ?  " 

"  Frank,  till  you  have  more  knowledge,  I 
will  not  attempt  to  explain  that  to  you,"  said 
his  mother.  "  But,  whenever  you  can  under- 
stand it,  you  shall  read  all  that  is  known 
about  the  burning  of  a  candle.  You  will 
find  it  in  that  book  which  your  brother  Ed- 
ward was  reading  yesterday  —  '  Conversa- 
tions on  Chemistry.'  ' 

"  Ay,  that  book  which  he  likes  so  much. 
But,  mamma,  I  do  not  like  it.  Edward  said 
to  me,  '  Don't  interrupt  me.  Frank ;  I  am 
busy  ;  I  am  very  happy,  reading  this.'  Mam- 
ma, I  got  up  behind  his  chair,  and  began  try- 
ing to  read  over  his  shoulder ;  but  I  did  not 
like  the  book  much." 

"  No,  because  you  did  not  understand  it  at 
all." 


190  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  And  I  am  afraid  I  shall  never  understand 
it,"  said  Frank. 

"  Do  you  not  understand  parts  of  books 
now,  Frank,  which  you  did  not  understand 
when  you  began  to  learn  to  read  ?  " 

"  Yes,  parts  of  '  Evenings  at  Home,'  and 
parts  of  '  Sandford  and  Merton,'  which  I  diu 
not  understand,  and  did  not  like,  last  year  ; 
and  now  I  like  them  very  much." 

"  Then  you  may  hope  that  the  time  will 
come,  if  you  try  to  improve  yourself,  when 
you  will  understand  and  like  '  Conversations 
on  Chemistry,'  as  your  brother  now  does. 
Even  what  you  have  seen  and  learned  this 
evening  will  help  you  a  little." 

Just  then,  Frank  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  he  saw  the  little  girl,  who  had  been  sent 
for  strawberries,  coming  along  the  path 
which  led  to  the  house.  She  brought  a 
basket  of  fine  strawberries.  The  old  woman 
set  a  little  deal  table  in  the  porch,  where  the 
honeysuckles,  which  hung  over  the  roof  of 
the  porch,  smelled  very  sweet.  The  sun 
was  setting,  and  it  was  cheerful  and  pleasant. 

"  Look,  master  Frank  !  I  have  strawber- 
ries for  you,  and  for  myself,  too  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Wheeler.  "  My  George  takes  care  of  my 
garden,  and  I  have  plenty  of  fruit  and  flow- 
ers ;  these  honeysuckles,  that  smell  so  sweet, 
are  all  his  planting." 

Frank's  father  returned  from  the  oat  field, 
where  he  had  been ;  and  Frank  and  his 


FRANK.  191 

father  and  mother  sat  in  the  porch  covered 
with  honeysuckles,  and  ate  strawberries  and 
cream. 


After  Frank  had  eaten  as  many  strawber- 
ries as  he  liked,  he  and  his  father  and  mother 
thanked  the  good-natured  old  woman,  and 
his  mother  put  into  the  little  girl's  hand  some 
money.  The  girl  courtesied,  and  smiled,  and 
looked  happy. 

Then  Frank  followed  his  father  and  moth- 
er out  of  the  cottage,  and  his  father  said,  that 
they  would  walk  home  by  a  new  way, 
through  the  oat  field,  and  afterwards  through 
a  neat  farm-yard,  and  round  by  a  pretty  lane, 
which  would  take  them  to  the  bridge.  Frank 
did  not  hear  what  his  father  said  ;  and  his 
father,  turning  his  head  back,  saw  Frank 
walking  slowly  behind  him,  and  looking  as 
if  he  was  thinking  intently  of  something. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Frank  ?  "  said 
his  father. 

"  I  am  thinking,  papa,  about  money." 

"  What  about  money,  Frank  ?  " 

"  I  am  thinking  how  happy  that  little  girl 
looked  when  mamma  gave  her  some  money, 
and  how  glad  people  always  look  when 
money  is  given  to  them.  The  reason,  I 
know,  is  because  they  can  buy  things  with 
money  —  bread  and  meat,  or  clothes,  or  balls 
and  tops,  and  playthings,  or  houses,  chaises, 


192  EARLY    LESSONS. 

or  any  thing  they  wish  for.  But,  papa,  I 
wonder  that  the  people  who  have  bread  and 
meat,  and  clothes,  and  tops,  and  balls,  and  all 
sorts  of  pretty  or  useful  things,  are  sc  foolish 
as  to  give  them  for  little  bits  of  gold,  or 
silver,  or  copper,  which  are  of  no  use." 

"  No  use !  My  dear,  recollect  that  you 
have  just  said  that  they  are  of  use,  to  buy  any 
thing  people  want  or  wish  for.  Suppose  you 
had  two  tops,  and  that  you  wanted  to  have  a 
ball,  instead  of  one  of  your  tops ;  you  might 
sell  one  of  your  tops,  and  with  the  money 
that  would  be  paid  to  you  for  your  top,  you 
might  buy  a  ball." 

"  But,  papa,  why  could  not  I  change  one 
of  my  tops  for  a  ball,  without  buying  or  sell- 
ing, or  having  any  thing  to  do  with  money  ?  " 

"  Your  top  is  worth  more  than  a  ball  ; 
however,  you  might,  if  you  liked  it,  exchange 
your  top  for  a  ball ;  but  it  is  not  so  easy  to 
make  exchanges  of  heavy  and  large  things 
as  of  light  and  small  things ;  you  cannot 
carry  large  or  heavy  things  —  for  instance, 
coals  or  cows  — about  with  you,  to  exchange  ; 
and  yet  one  man  may  have  more  coals,  and 
another  more  cows,  than  he  wants ;  and,  if 
they  wish  to  exchange  these,  then  it  is  con- 
venient to  give  money,  which  can  readily  be 
carried  in  the  pocket." 

Frank  did  not  quite  understand  what  his 
father  meant ;  his  father  said  that  it  was  too 
difficult  for  h  m  to  comprehend,  and  that  he 


FRANK.  103 

should   only  puzzle    him,    if    he    talked    to 
him  any  more  about  it,  yet. 

"  Papa,"  said  Frank,  looking  a  little  morti- 
fied, "  I  am  sorry  that  there  are  so  many 
things  that  I  cannot  understand  yet.  What 
shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Attend  to  those  things  which  you  can 
understand,  my  dear  boy ;  and  then  you  will 
learn  more  and  more,  every  day  and  every 
hour.  Here  are  men  reaping  oats.  Look  at 
the  sickle  with  which  they  are  cutting 
down  the  oats.  Did  you  ever  see  a  sickle 
before  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Frank  remembered  having  seen  sickles  last 
autumn,  when  his  mother  took  him  to  see 
some  men  reaping  wheat  ;  and  he  said  he 
recollected  that  the  bundles  of  the  wheat, 
which  the  men  bound  together  and  set  up- 
right on  their  stalks,  were  called  sheaves,  and 
that  the  top  of  each  separate  stalk  of  wheat 
is  called  the  ear. 

His  father  bade  him  run  and  gather  an  ear 
of  barley,  which  was  growing  in  the  next 
field,  on  the  left  hand,  and  also  an  ear  of 
wheat,  which  was  growing  in  a  field  on  the 
right  hand;  and  when  Frank  had  gathered 
these,  his  father  showed  him  the  difference 
between  oats,  barley,  and  wheat.  Frank 
knew  that  wheat  is  made  into  bread,  and 
that  barley  and  oats  are  sometimes  made  into 
bread,  and  that  oats  are  eaten  by  horses 
17 


194  EARLY    LESSONS. 

But  there  is  another  use  of  barley,  which  ha 
did  not  know. 

"  Did  you  ever  taste  beer,  Frank  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  Do  you  know  of  what  beer  is  made  ?  " 

"  I  think  my  brother  Edward  told  me  that 
it  is  made  of  malt  and  hops ;  and  he  once, 
when  the  brewer  was  brewing,  showed  me 
some  hops ;  he  said  that  hops  gave  the  bitter 
taste  to  beer.  But,  papa,  I  do  not  know 
what  malt  is." 

"  Malt  is  corn,  that  has  been  made  to  begin 
to  grow  again,  and  that  is  not  suffered  to 
grow  a  long  time.  Corn,  you  know,  is  a 
name  for  many  kinds  of  grain ;  as  wheat, 
barley,  maize,  oats,  and  rye." 

"  How  do  they  make  it  grow  a  little  ? " 
said  Frank. 

"  By  wetting  the  grain  and  heaping  it  up, 
which  makes  it  hot ;  then  it  swells,  and  the 
grain  becomes  soft ;  and,  if  it  is  opened,  it  is 
found  to  contain  a  kind  of  flour.  I  think  I 
once  gave  you  some  malt  to  taste.  Do  you 
remember  the  taste  of  it,  Frank?  " 

"Yes,  papa;  it  has  a  sort  of  sweet  taste." 

"  Well ;  when  the  malt  has  swelled,  and 
is  ready  to  burst,  they  stop  its  growth  by 
taking  it  out  of  the  heap,  and  spreading  it 
upon  the  ground,  and  at  last  by  putting  it 
into  a  place  that  dries  the  corn,  and  prevents 
it  from  growing  any  more." 

"  Papa,  you  showed  me  such  a  place  at  Mr. 


FRANK.  195 

Crawford's,  the  maltster's,  and  he  called  it  a 
kiln.  And  what  do  they  do  next  to  the 
malt  ? " 

"  They  then  brew  it,  and  make  beer  of  it." 
"  I  know  that.     But  how  do  they  brew  it, 
papa  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  explain  that  to  you,  now,  my 
dear  ;  but  the  next  time  the  brewer  comes,  I 
will  take  you  into  the  brewhouse,  and  you 
may  then  see  part  of  what  is  done  to  make 
beer  of  malt." 


Whilst  Frank's  father  had  been  talking 
about  malt  and  beer,  they  had  walked 
through  two  or  three  fields,  and  they  came 
to  a  neat  farm  house. 

The  man  to  whom  the  house  belonged 
came  out,  and  said,  — 

"  How  do  you  do,  landlord  ?  Madam,  you 
are  welcome.  Will  you  walk  in  my  yard, 
sir,  and  look  at  my  new  barn,  which  I  am 
just  now  thatching  ?  " 

"  Pray,  papa,  take  me  with  you,"  said 
Frank ;  "  for  I  want  very  much  to  know 
how  to  thatch  the  old  garden  house  better." 

His  father  took  him  to  the  yard.  When 
they  came  there,  Frank  saw,  lying  on  the 
ground,  on  one  side  of  the  yard,  a  great  heap 
of  straw,  and  on  the  other  side  he  saw  a 
bundle  of  hay,  of  which  horses  were  eating. 
As  he  was  passing  between  the  heap  of  straw 


195  EARLY    LESSONS. 

and  the  bundle  of  hay,  Frank  heard  his 
mother  tell  his  father,  that  she  once  knew  a 
young  lady,  who  had  lived  till  she  was  four- 
teen years  old  in  the  country,  and  yet  who 
did  not,  at  that  age,  know  the  difference 
between  straw  and  hay. 

Frank  laughed,  and  said,  "  What  a  very 
ignorant  young  lady  that  must  be,  mamma  ! 
I  know  the  difference  between  straw  and 
hay  perfectly ;  this  on  my  right  hand  is 
straw,  and  this  on  my  left  hand  is  hay. 
Cows  and  horses  eat  hay,  but  they  do  not  eat 
straw ;  beds  are  sometimes  made  of  straw  ; 
and  hats,  and  a  great  many  things,  are  made 
of  straw ;  and  houses  are  thatched  with 
straw,  and  not  with  hay.  You  see,  mamma, 
I  know  a  great  deal  more  than  that  young 

lady,  though  she  was  fourteen. How  very 

old !  " 

"  But  all  this  time  you  have  not  told  me, 
Frank,  what  hay  is,  and  what  straw  is." 

"  Hay  is  grass  dried,  and  straw  is  the 
stalks  of  wheat.  You  know,  mamma,  last 
autumn  I  saw  the  men  threshing  —  I  saw 
the  corn  that  was  threshed  out  of  the 
ears  ;  and  what  was  left,  after  the  corn  was 
beat  out,  you  told  me  was  called  chaff;  and 
the  stalks,  mamma,  you  told  me  were  to  be 
called  straw." 

"  Well  remembered,  Frank,"  said  his  fa- 
ther. "  Perhaps,  if  the  poor  ignorant  young 
lady  of  fourteen  had,  at  your  age,  had  as  kind 


FRANK.  197 

a  mother  as  you  have,  and  had  been  told  and 
shown  all  these  things,  she  might  have  re- 
membered them  as  you  do.  But,  Frank, 
the  stalks  of  wheat  are  not  the  only  stalks 
that  are  called  straw.  The  stalks  of  wheat 
are  called  wheat  straw,  but  there  are  other 
kinds  of  straw.  The  stalks  of  oats,  and  of 
barley,  and  of  rye,  are  all  called  straw." 

"  Which  kind  of  straw  is  the  best  for 
thatching  houses,  papa  ?  " 

"  Wheat  straw,  I  believe,"  said  his  father. 

By  this  time,  they  had  come  to  the  barn 
which  the  man  was  thatching.  Frank  looked 
up  attentively  a  little  while,  and  then  said,  — 

"  The  man  is  so  far  above  me,  papa,  that  I 
cannot  well  see  how  he  fastens  on  the  straw. 
May  I  go  up  this  ladder,  papa  ?  " 

Frank  pointed  to  a  ladder  which  stood 
beside  that  on  which  the  thatcher  was  at 
work.  Frank's  father  made  him  no  answer, 
till  he  had  examined  if  the  ladder  was  firmly 
fixed  ;  and  then  he  told  Frank  that  he  might 
go  up. 

"  I  will  follow  you,  Frank,"  added  he, 
"  to  take  care  of  you,  when  you  get  to  the 
top." 

"  No,  papa,  thank  you,  you  need  not ;  for 
1  am  not  at  all  afraid,  because  I  know  so  well 
how  to  go  up  and  down  a  ladder." 

Frank  ran  to  the  ladder,  and  a  maid 
servant,  who  was  milking  a  cow  in  the  yard, 
cried  out,  — 


198 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


"  Master !  master !  dear  young  master  ! 
What  are  you  about?  Don't  go  up  the 
ladder,  or  you'll  break  your  pretty  little 
legs." 

Frank  laughed,  and  began  to  go  up  the 
ladder  directly.  He  had  been  accustomed  to 
go  up  and  down  a  step  ladder,  which  his 
father  had  in  his  library.  Formerly,  when 
he  was  a  very  little  boy,  he  had  not  been  al- 
lowed to  go  up  that  ladder,  and  he  never  had 
gone  up  it  till  his  father  gave  him  leave.  And 
now,  he  was  proud  of  being  permitted  to 
mount  a  ladder.  So  he  went  up  ;  and  when 
he  was  half  way  up,  he  turned  back  his 


FRANK.  199 

head  to  look  at  the  maid,  who  had  hid  her 
face  with  her  hands.  Frank  laughed  more 
and  more  at  her  fright. 

"Take  care,  Frank;  mind  what  you  are 
about ;  hold  fast  by  the  sides  of  the  ladder. 
You  are  in  much  more  danger  now  than  you 
were  in  crossing  the  plank  over  the  brook ; 
for,  if  you  miss  a  rung,  ( a  step  of  the  lad- 
der,) you  will  fall  and  hurt  yourself  very 
much.  There  is  no  courage  in  being  care- 
less. ' ' 

Frank  knew  that  his  father  told  him  the 
truth  about  danger,  as  well  as  about  every 
thing  else,  and  he  always  attended  to  what 
his  father  advised ;  therefore  he  left  off 
laughing,  and  he  took  care  to  hold  fast,  and  not 
to  miss  any  rung  of  the  ladder.  He  found 
that  this  ladder  was  much  higher  than  that 
which  he  had  been  used  to  go  up ;  his  father 
was  behind  him ;  he  reached  the  topmost  rung 
safely,  and  his  father  put  one  of  his  arms 
round  Frank,  and  held  him,  for  his  head 
grew  a  little  giddy ;  and  he  had  not  been 
used  to  look  down  from  such  a  height.  In  a 
few  minutes,  when  his  attention  was  fixed  on 
what  the  thatcher  was  doing,  he  forgot  this 
disagreeable  feeling  ;  and  he  was  entertained 
by  seeing  the  manner  in  which  the  house 
was  thatched. 

"  Papa,  I  see  that  he  puts  on  the  straw 
quite  differently  from  what  I  did,  when  I  was 
trying  to  thatch  the  house  in  my  garden." 


200  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  put  on  the  straw  ?  " 

"  I  put  it  in  bundles  upon  sticks,  that 
made  the  roof." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  bundles  ?  " 

"  I  took  as  much  as  I  could  grasp,  or  hold 
in  my  hand,  and  I  put  it  on  the  wooden  roof, 
not  quite  like  steps,  but  one  above  another." 

"  And  you  found  that  the  rain  came  in  be- 
tween every  bundle,  did  not  you  ?  " 

"  I  did,  indeed  ;  and  I  was  very  sorry  ;  after 
all  my  pains,  after  I  had  thatched  my  house, 
the  water  came  in,  the  first  time  there  was  a 
hard  shower  of  rain." 

"  Yes  ;  because  you  put  the  bundles  of 
straw  the  wrong  way.  You  see  the  thatcher 
does  not  lay  handfuls  of  straw  in  steps,  one 
above  the  other,  as  you  did ;  but  he  begins 
at  the  eaves  of  the  roof,  near  the  wall,  just  at 
one  end  of  the  house,  and  he  lays  several 
bundles  one  beside  the  other." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  Frank.  "  I  put 
them  one  above  the  other,  like  the  steps  of 
the  ladder ;  he  puts  them  beside  each  other, 
like  the  sides  of  the  ladder." 

"He  fastens  them  down  with  bent  twigs, 
which  he  calls  scollops,"  said  Frank's  father. 

"  Or  else,  look,  here  is  another  way  — 

he  fastens  the  straw  down  with  a  rope  made 
of  straw,  with  which  he  actually  sews  the 
thatch  down  to  the  roof,  with  this  long  iron 
rod,  which,  you  see,  he  uses  like  a  needle." 

"  But,    papa,    you  said  that  he  begins  at 


FRANK.  201 

the  eaves  of  the  house.  What  is  the 
eaves  ?  " 

'•'  The  eaves  are  that  part  of  a  roof  that  is 
nearest  the  wall.  They  are  the  lowest  part 
of  the  roof,  and  the  thatch  hangs  over  the 
wall,  to  carry  off  the  rain  without  its  touch- 
ing the  wall.  Here  is  a  scollop.  You  see, 
it  is  sharpened  at  both  ends,  that  it  may  stick 
in  the  roof.  Observe  the  thatcher.  He  is 
going  to  put  on  the  second  row  of  thatch 
above  the  first." 

"  Yes ;  I  see  that  the  lower  part  of  the 
bundle,  that  he  is  now  putting  on,  is  put 
over  the  upper  part  of  the  bundles  below  it." 

"  Why  does  he  do  so  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Think  a  little,  Frank." 

"I  do  think,  papa, but  I  cannot  find 

it  out." 

"  The  rain  would  fall  between  the  bottom 
of  the  row  which  he  is  now  putting  on,  and 
the  first  row,  if  the  bottom  of  the  second  did 
not  lap  over  the  top  of  the  first ;  and  the  rain 
would  run  in  at  the  holes  made  by  the  scol- 
lops, if  they  were  not  covered  with  the  second 
row  of  thatch." 

When  Frank  had  seen  and  heard  all  that 
his  father  showed  and  told  him  about  thatch- 
ing, he  went  down  the  ladder  as  carefully  as 
he  had  gone  up  it.  As  he  passed  through 
the  farm  yard  with  his  father  and  mother,  he 
stopped  to  look  at  some  pretty  hens  and  chick- 


202 


EARLY    LESSONS. 


ens,  that  were  picking  up  oats.  Whilst  Frank 
was  looking  at  them,  a  large  turkey  cock  carne 
strutting  up  to  him,  making  a  great  noise, 
spreading  its  black  wings,  stretching  out  its 
blue  and  red  throat,  and  looking  ready  to  fly 
at  him.  Frank  started  back,  and  had  a  great 
wish  to  run  away ;  but  his  father,  putting  a 
stick  into  his  hand,  said,  — 

"  Frank,  stand  steady,  my  boy  ;  drive  him 
away  with  this  stick.  That's  right ;  drive 
him  away." 

The  turkey  cock  began  to  run  away,  turn- 
ing back,  from  time  to  time,  and  making  a 
terrible  noise ;  but  Frank  pursued  him, 
threatening  him  with  the  stick  ;  and,  as  fast 


FRANK.  203 

as  Frank  came  up  to  him,  the  turkey  cock 
gobbled  and  ran  away. 

"  Well  done,  Frank !  you  have  fairly 
driven  him  away,"  said  his  father,  shaking 
hands  with  him.  "  You  see  you  can  conquer 
him,  and  that  he  has  not  hurt  you  ;  now  the 
next  time  a  turkey  cock  attacks  you,  if  you 
have  a  stick  in  your  hand,  you  need  not  be 
afraid." 

"  My  dear  Frank,"  said  his  mother,  "  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  are  become  so  much  stouter 
than  you  were.  When  you  were  a  very 
little  boy,  and  not  nearly  so  strong  as  you 
are  now,  I  remember  we  had  a  turkey  cock 
in  the  yard  which  one  day  frightened  you  ; 
and  your  father  ordered  that  it  should  be 
sent  away,  that  it  might  not  frighten  you 
again  ;  for  you  were  not  then  able  to  defend 
yourself." 

"  But  I  am  now  older,  and  am  able  to  de- 
fend myself,"  cried  Frank  ;  "  and  willing  too, 
mamma." 

Frank  marched  on,  in  triumph,  before  his 
mother;  and  passed  by  the  door  of  the 
chicken  yard,  looking  proudly  at  the  turkey 
cock,  who  dared  not  come  out.  Frank 
amused  himself,  during  a  great  part  of  the 
way  home,  in  imitating  the  strut  and  noise 
of  this  animal ;  and  he  frequently  turned  to 
his  mother,  asking  her  if  this  was  not  very 
liko ;  and  this  still  more  like  ;  and  begging 
her  to  shut  her  eyes  and  listen,  and  tell 


EARLY    LESSONS. 

whether  she  could  know  his  gobble  from  that 
of  the  real  turkey  cock. 

Frank  was  tired,  at  last,  of  doing  this ; 
and  his  mother  was  tired  of  listening  to 
him. 

"  Now,  mamma,  I  have  done  being  a 
turkey  cock." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear,  I  am  glad  of  it. 
Let  this  woman,  who  seems  to  be  in  a  hurry, 
pass  by  you,  Frank,"  said  his  mother. 

Frank  looked  behind  him,  and  he  saw  a 
woman,  with  a  milk-pail  on  her  head,  and 
another  under  her  arm.  He  made  way  for 
her,  and  when  she  had  passed,  he  said,  — 

"  Mamma,  that  is  the  very  same  woman 
who  was  milking  the  cow  in  the  farm  yard, 
and  who  said  to  me.  '  Master  !  master !  don't 
go  up  the  ladder,  or  you  will  break  your 
pretty  little  legs.'  Mamma,  was  not  she  fool- 
ish, to  be  so  much  frightened?  I  wonder 
how  any  body  can  be  afraid  to  go  up  a 
ladder.  What  a  coward  she  must  be,  poor 
woman  !  " 

As  Frank  was  saying  this,  they  came  to 
the  narrow  bridge  ;  and,  to  Frank's  surprise, 
he  saw  this  woman  run,  without  any  appear- 
ance of  fear,  across  the  plank. 

"  With  one  pail  on  her  head,  and  the  other 
pail  under  her  arm,  too  !  "  cried  Frank,  stop- 
ping short,  and  looking  at  her  with  astonish- 
ment.   "  Mamma,  can  that  be  the  same 

woman  ?  Then  she  cannot  be  a  coward ' 


FRANK.  205 

Not  a  coward  about  going  over  narrow 
bridges ;  but  she  is  a  coward  about  going  up  a 
ladder,  mamma." 

"  She  is  accustomed  to  go  over  this  bridge, 
and  she  finds  that  she  can  do  so  without 
being  hurt  ;  and  yon,  Prank,  have  been  ac- 
customed to  go  up  a  ladder  without  being 
hurt." 

"Yes,  the  ladder  in  papa's  study  I  go  up 
and  down  very  often,  every  day.  The  first 
time  I  went  up  it,  I  was  a  little  afraid  ;  and  I 
remember  clinging  fast,  and  going  very  slow- 
ly. I  see,  mamma,  that  people  learn  riot  to  be 
afraid  of  what  they  are  accustomed  to  ;  and  I 
believe  people  can  teach  themselves  not  to 
be  afraid." 

As  Frank  finished  speaking,  he  walked 
boldly  over  that  bridge  on  which,  but  a  short 
time  before,  he  had  scarcely  dared  to  put  his 
foot  —  that  bridge  which  he  had  thought  it 
impossible  to  cross. 


Frank's  father  was  very  careful  always  to 
keep  his  promises.  He  remembered  that  he 
had  promised  Frank,  that,  whenever  the 
brewer  came,  he  would  let  Frank  see  how 
beer  was  brewed.  The  brewer  was  now 
going  to  brew,  and  Frank's  father  called 
Frank,  and  took  him  into  the  brewhouse. 

"  What  a  very  large  vessel  that  is,  papa !  " 


206  EARLY    LESSONS. 

said  Frank,  pointing  to  a  vessel  which  he 
saw  in  the  brewhouse. 

"  It  is  large,  compared  with  that  which 
you  have  seen  the  cook  use  for  boiling  meat ; 
but  it  is  small,  compared  with  the  brewing 
pan,  or  boiler,  used  in  a  public  brewery,  where 
a  great  quantity  of  beer  is  brewed  for  num- 
bers of  people.  We  brew  only  the  quantity 
that  we  want  to  drink  ourselves." 

"  What  is  in  the  boiler,  papa?  " 

"  Water.  Look  at  this  large  wooden  ves- 
sel ;  this  is  called  a  vat.  Into  this  the  malt 
is  put,  and  the  water,  that  is  boiled  in  the 
boiler,  is  poured  into  the  vat,  and  mixed  with 
the  malt ;  and,  after  some  other  manage- 
ment, it  becomes  a  liquor  called  wort.  This 
is  all  you  can  see  to-day." 

The  next  day,  his  father  called  Frank 
again,  and  took  him  into  the  brewhouse,  and 
showed  him  the  wort,  and  bade  him  taste  it  ; 
he  tasted  it,  and  found  it  sweet ;  but  it  had 
not  the  taste  of  beer,  though  it  had  some- 
thing of  the  color  of  muddy  beer.  His  fa- 
ther told  him  that  hops  must  be  mixed  with 
the  wort,  before  it  could  taste  like  beer.  He 
showed  Frank  hops,  and  Frank  tasted  the 
hops,  and  found  that  they  had  a  bitter  taste. 

"  And  is  this  all  that  is  done  to  make  beer, 
papa  ?  " 

"  Not  all ;  the  wort,  after  the  hops  have 
been  boiled  in  it,  must  be  set  to  work,  or/er- 


FRANK.  207 

merit ;  and  after  it  has  fermented  for  some 
time,  it  becomes  beer." 

"  What  is,  to  ferment  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"  I  cannot  explain  it  to  you,"  answered 
his  father.  "  But  you  shall  see  this  wort 
when  it  is  fermenting." 

Then  Frank's  father  desired  the  brewer 
would  send  and  let  him  know,  as  soon  as  the 
beer  should  begin  to  ferment.  The  brewer 
did  so  some  time  afterward ;  and  Frank  went 
to  look  at  it.  It  was  not  now  in  the  brew- 
house. 

"  You  see,  Frank,"  said  his  father,  "  that 
the  liquor  in  these  vessels  is  not  like  what 
you  saw  in  the  brewhouse.  It  is,  however, 
the  same  liquor  ;  but  it  is  now  in  a  state  of 
fermentation." 

"  It  looks,  indeed,  quite  different,"  said 
Frank  ;  "  that  liquor  was  of  a  dull  brown 
color,  and  quite  smooth  on  the  surface  ;  this 
is  all  frothy,  and  of  a  muddy  yellow  and 
white  color.  It  is  full  of  bubbles ;  some 
rising  from  below  the  surface,  and  others 
bursting." 

"  That  froth  is  called  yeast,  or  barm  ;  and 
it  is  by  means  of  this  yeast,  or  barm,  that 
bread  is  made  spongy  and  light.  Bread  made 
without  barm  is  heavy,  like  unbaked  paste." 

"  Papa,  how  is  the  beer  made  to  work,  or 
ferment,  as  it  is  called  ?  " 

"Some  yeast,  that  was  got  from  other 
beer,  that  was  fermenting,  was  put  into  this 


208  EARLY   LESSONS. 

beer  ,•  and  that  set  it  a-working,  as  it  is 
called." 

"  How  does  it  set  it  a-working,  papa  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  his  father. 

"  How  did  they  get  the  yeast  for  the  first 
beer  that  was  made  to  ferment  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  his  father. 

"  Why,  papa,  I  thought  you  knew  every 
thing." 

"  Indeed,  my  dear,  I  know  very  little  ;  and 
I  never  pretend  to  know  more  than  I  do. 
The  older  people  grow,  and  the  wiser  they 
become,  the  more  they  feel  that  they  are 
ignorant  of  a  number  of  things.  Then  they 
become  the  more  desirous  to  learn  ;  and,  the 
more  they  learn,  the  more  pleasure  they  feel 
in  acquiring  fresh  knowledge." 


After  he  had  seen  and  heard  all  that  his 
father  could  show  or  tell  him  about  the  fer- 
mentation of  beer,  Prank  went  to  read  to  his 
mother,  as  he  usually  did,  at  this  hour,  every 
morning. 

"  You  have  just  been  seeing  how  beer  is 
made,  Frank,"  said  she  ;  "now,  should  you 
like  to  know  how  cider  is  made  ?  " 

"  Very  much,  mamma." 

"  Here  is  a  book,  in  which  you  can  find  an 
account  of  it." 

She  put  into  his  hand  the  first  volume  of 
Sandford  and  Merton,  open  at  the  place 


FRANK.  209 

which  gives  an  account  of  Harry  and  Tom- 
my's visit  to  the  farm  house,  where  they 
saw  a  room  full  of  apples,  and  where  the 
farmer's  wife  described  the  manner  in  which 
she  made  cider  of  apple-juice. 

Frank  read  all  this  to  his  mother,  and  it 
entertained  him  so  much,  that  when  he  had 
finished  it,  he  asked  his  mother  to  let  him 
read  some  more  of  that  book. 

His  mother  said  that  she  was  afraid  he 
was  not  yet  able  to  understand  all  of  it ;  and 
that  she  advised  him  to  keep  the  pleasure  of 
reading  it,  till  he  should  be  able  quite  to 
understand  it. 

"  O  mamma  !  here  is  the  story  of  two  dogs, 
Jowler  and  Keeper.  Mamma !  just  let  me 
look  at  that,  and  a  story  of  the  good-natured 
little  boy  and  the  ill-natured  boy.  I  am  sure 
I  can  understand  that,  mamma ;  arid  the 
story  of  the  gentleman  and  the  basket-maker, 
and  Androcles  and  the  lion.  I  will  begin  at 
the  beginning,  mamma,  if  you  please  ;  and, 
if  I  find  that  I  do  not  understand  it,  I  will 
put  it  up  again  in  your  book-case,  and  keep 
the  pleasure,  as  you  say,  till  I  am  able  quite 
to  understand  it." 

Upon  this  condition,  Frank's  mother  gave 
him  leave  to  read  Sandford  and  Merton.  He 
sat  down  immediately  on  the  carpet,  and  he 
read  eagerly  for  some  time,  till  he  came  to  a 
long  dialogue,  and  then  he  yawned.  His 
mother  sent  him  out  to  work  in  his  garden. 
18 


210  EARLY    LESSONS. 

She  would  not  allow  him  to  read  much  at  a 
time,  because  she  wished  to  prevent  him  from 
being  tired  of  reading.  He  had  the  pleasure 
of  reading  a  little  of  Sandford  and  Merton 
every  day.  He  found  that  he  understood  a 
great  deal  of  it ;  and  his  mother  told  him,  he 
might  miss  some  parts.  "  You  will  read  that 
book  over  again,  I  am  sure,  some  time  hence  ; 
and  then  you  will  be  able  to  understand  it 
all ;  and  then  you  may  read  the  parts  which 
you  now  miss." 

Frank  was  particularly  delighted  with  the 
account  of  the  house  which  Harry  and  Tom- 
my built.  And  as  soon  as  Frank  got  over 
the  difficulty  of  the  hard  name,  Spitzbergen, 
he  liked  the  account  of  "  the  extraordinary 
adventures  of  the  four  Russian  sailors,  who 
were  cast  away  on  the  desert  island  of  East 
Spitzbergen." 

"  Mamma,  I  like  this,  because  it  is  true," 
said  Frank.  "  Mamma,  I  like  books  that 
tell  me  true  things,  and  that  teach  me  some- 
thing." 


One  morning,  when  Frank  was  going  to 
put  on  his  shoes,  he  found  that  there  was  a 
hole  in  the  side  of  one  of  them ;  so  he  put  on 
another  pair,  and  he  ran  with  the  shoe  that 
had  the  hole  in  it  to  his  mother,  and  asked 
her  to  have  it  mended  for  him.  She  said 
that  she  would  send  it  to  the  shoemaker's. 


FRANK.  211 

"  Mamma,"  continued  Frank,  "  I  should 
ike  to  go  to  the  shoemaker's  ;  I  should  like 
to  see  how  he  mends  my  shoe,  and  how  he 
makes  new  shoes.  I  understand  something 
about  it,  from  having  seen  that  print  of  the 
shoemaker  in  the  Book  of  Trades,  and  from 
having  read  the  description ;  but  I  think  I 
should  understand  it  much  better  if  I  was  to 
see  a  real  shoemaker  at  work." 

"  I  think  you  would,  my  dear;  and  when  I 
have  leisure,  I  will  take  you  to  see  a  shoe- 
maker at  work." 

"  Thank  you,  good  mamma !  And  1 
should  like  to  see  every  thing  done  that  is 
shown  in  the  prints  of  that  book,"  continued 
Frank.  He  ran  for  the  book,  and,  turning 
over  the  leaves,  "  I  should  like,  mamma,  to  see 
the  trunkmaker,  the  wheelwright,  the  turn- 
er, the  ropemaker,  the  papermaker,  the  book- 
binder, the  brazier,  the  buttonmaker,  the 
saddler,  the  glassblower,  and  —  O  mamma  ! 
the  printer,  and " 

"  Stop,  stop,  my  dear  Frank  !  I  cannot 
show  you  all  these ;  but,  if  you  are  not 
troublesome,  I  will  show  you  any,  which 
you  can  understand,  whenever  I  have  an 
opportunity,  and  when  I  have  time.  You 
know  that  I  have  a  great  many  things  to  do, 
and  cannot  always  attend  to  you,  my  little 
Frank." 

"  I   know   that,  mamma.     But   you  have 


212  EARLY    LESSONS. 

time,  have  not  you,  to  take  me  to  the  shoe- 
maker's to-day?" 

"  Not  to-day,  my  dear." 

"  But,  mamma,  will  you  tell  me  how  paper 
is  made  ?  " 

"  Not  now,  my  dear." 

"  Well,  mamma,  I  will  tell  you  how  I  in- 
tend to  manage  about  my  arbor." 

"  Not  at  present,  my  dear.  Do  not  talk  to 
me  any  more  now;  I  am  going  to  write  a 
letter." 

Frank  went  away,  and  employed  himself, 
that  he  might  not  be  troublesome,  and  that 
he  might  make  himself  happy. 

The  next  day,  his  mother  took  him  to 
the  shoemaker's:  he  saw  him  at  work  —  he 
saw  the  awl,  with  which  the  shoemaker 
makes  holes  in  the  sole  of  the  shoe  and  in 
the  leather,  through  which  holes  he  puts  the 
waxed  thread,  with  which  he  sews  them  to- 
gether ;  he  saw  that,  instead  of  using  nee- 
dles, the  shoemaker  used  hogs'  bristles, 
which  he  fastened  to  the  waxed  thread  with 
which  he  worked  ;  so  that  the  bristles  served 
him  as  needles.  He  put  the  two  ends  of  the 
thread  in  at  opposite  sides  of  the  holes,  and 
then  drew  the  thread  tight,  by  pulling 
each  end  at  one  and  the  same  time  ;  and,  in 
doing  this,  he  pushed  out  his  elbows,  and 
made  an  odd,  jerking  motion,  which  diverted 
Frank  very  much. 


FRANK.  213 

"  Now  I  know  the  reason,"  said  Frank, 
v<  why,  in  the  song  which  papa  sings  about 
the  cobbler,  it  says,  that  he  wanted  elbow 
room  — 

'  There  was  a  cobbler,  who  lived  in  the  coomb, 
And  all  that  he  wanted  was  elbow  room.' " 

Frank  saw,  in  the  shoemaker's  shop,  large 
pieces  of  leather  of  different  colors  —  black, 
white,  red,  blue,  green,  and  purple.  He 
asked  leave  to  look  at  these  ;  and  one  of  the 
men  in  the  shop,  who  was  not  busy,  took  out 
of  a  drawer  some  skins,  as  he  called  them, 
and  spread  them  on  the  counter  before 
Frank,  who  touched,  and  smelled,  and  looked 
at  them,  for  some  minutes,  and  then  said,  — 

"  I  know  that  leather  is  the  skin  of  ani- 
mals —  of  horses,  and  dogs,  and  calves,  and 
of  some  kind  of  goats,  and  of —  of — I  forget 
the  name  —  seals." 

"  Why,  master !  "  said  the  shoemaker, 
looking  up  from  his  work,  "many  a  little 
master,  of  your  age,  for  whom  I  make  shoes, 
does  not  know  so  much;  you  are  a  very 
clever  little  gentleman." 

Frank  colored,  and  was  ashamed;  for  he 
recollected  the  flattering  lady,  and  he  thought 
the  shoemaker  was  flattering  and  laughing  at 
him.  He  turned  away,  and  said  to  the  man 
who  had  showed  him  the  skins,  — 

"  Tell  me,  will  you,  how  the  skins  of 
horses,  and  dogs,  and  goats,  are  made  to  look 
like  this  leather  which  I  see  before  me  ?  I 


214  EARLY    LESSOiNS. 

know,  pretty  well,  how  the  hair  of  the 
.horses,  and  dogs,  and  calves,  is  got  off,  be- 
cause I  read  an  account  of  that  in  rny  Book 
of  Trades.  I  know  the  currier,  with  a  long 
knife,  with  two  handles,  scrapes  it  off.  But 
I  don't  know,  and  I  wish  you  would  tell  me, 
how  you  turn  the  skin  into  leather,  and  how 
you  give  it  such  beautiful  colors." 

"Master,  I  cannot  tell  you  that.  It  is  not 
our  trade  ;  that  is  the  business  of  the  tanner 
and  the  leather-dresser.  I  buy  the  leather 
from  them  just  as  you  see  it.  Please  to  sit 
down,  master,  that  I  may  measure  you  for  a 
pair  of  shoes." 

Frank,  finding  that  the  shoemaker's  man 
could  not  tell  him  any  thing  about  tanning 
or  dyeing,  contented  himself  with  observing 
the  manner  in  which  this  man  took  measure 
of  his  foot.  Frank  looked  at  the  stick,  or 
ruler,  which  the  shoemaker  used.  It  was 
made  to  fold  up  and  open,  something  like  a 
carpenter's  common  ruler ;  but  there  was 
hinged,  at  one  end  of  it,  a  bit  of  brass  about 
two  inches  long  ;  and  this  was  hinged  so, 
that  it  could  be  made  to  stand  up,  or  shut 
down,  as  you  please.  This  piece  of  brass  the 
shoemaker  turned  up,  and  put  behind  Frank's 
heel,  when  he  began  to  measure  his  foot,  and 
he  laid  the  ruler  under  the  sole  of  Frank's 
foot.  There  was  another  piece  of  brass 
hinged  in  the  same  manner,  which  could  be 
slid  backwards  and  forwards  upon  the  ruler ; 


FRANK.  215 

the  shoemaker  pushed  this  up  to  the  end  of 
Frank's  foot,  and  then  looked  at  divisions 
which  were  marked  upon  the  ruler ;  and  he 
saw  the  distance  between  the  brass  at  the 
heel  and  the  brass  at  the  toe  ;  and  he  knew 
what  size  Frank's  shoe  had  ought  to  be,  as  to 
length.  The  breadth  he  measured  by  span- 
ning- the  foot ;  that  is,  by  putting  his  fingers 
round  it  in  different  places. 

When  the  shoemaker  had  finished  taking 
measure,  he  shut  up  his  measuring-stick. 
Frank  asked  leave  to  look  at  it  once  more, 
because  he  had  not.  observed  exactly  how  it 
was  fastened  when  shut.  The  shoemaker  put 
it  again  into  his  hands,  and  he  saw  how  one 
part  of  the  brass  notched  into  the  other,  so  as 
to  fasten  both  the  parts  of  the  ruler  together, 
when  shut. 

The  shoemaker  then  showed  Frank  some 
other  things,  which  he  wished  to  see,  in  his 
shop.  He  showed  him  a  bootjack,  for  draw- 
ing boots  off,  and  a  wooden  leg,  which  is  put 
into  boots,  to  stretch  them  ;  and  he  showed 
him  the  lasts,  or  moulds,  on  which  shoes  are 
made. 

Wherever  Frank  went,  people  were  gener- 
ally ready  to  answer  his  questions,  and  to 
show  him  what  he  wanted  to  see,  because  he 
took  care  not  to  be  troublesome,  and  he  did 
not  ask  foolish  questions.  He  sometimes 
found,  however,  that  people  could  not  spare 
time  to  show  him  things ;  and  he  often 


216  EARLY    LESSONS. 

found  that  he  could  not  understand  their 
manner  of  explaining. 

Some  days  after  Frank  had  been  at  the 
shoemaker's,  as  he  was  walking  out  in  the 
evening,  with  his  father  and  mother,  he  heard 
a  dog  barking  at  a  distance. 

"  How  far  off,  mamm  \,  do  you  think  that 
dog  is  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"  About  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  I  should  guess. 
I  fancy  it  is  White  the  tanner's  dog." 

"  The  tanner  !  Mamma,  I  wish  he  had 
not  that  barking  dog." 

"  That  barking  dog  is  very  useful  to  the 
tanner,  and  he  will  not  do  you  any  harm. 
That  dog  is  always  chained  up  in  the  day- 
time ;  he  is  let  loose  only  at  night,  when  he 
guards  his  master's  property,  and  prevents 
any  one  from  stealing  the  leather  which  the 
tanner  leaves  in  his  tan-pits." 

"  Then,  mamma,  if  the  dog  is  chained  up, 
and  cannot  do  me  any  harm,  I  wish  you 
would  be  so  good  as  to  take  me  to  see  the 
tanner  and  the  tan-pits :  you  know,  the  shoe- 
maker told  me  that  the  tanner  tans  leather.  — 
Mamma,  will  you  go  ?  Papa,  will  you  go  to 
the  tanner's  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Frank,  we  will  go  with  you,"  said 
his  father.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are 
so  desirous  to  acquire  knowledge." 

They  walked  across  two  or  three  fields, 
towards  the  tanner's  house  ;  and  when  they 
came  near  it,  the  barking  of  the  dog  was 


FRANK.  217 

heard  very  loud.  But  at  the  same  time  that 
Frank  heard  his  loud  barking,  he  also  heard 
the  rattling  of  the  dog's  chain;  and  he  knew, 
therefore,  that  he  was  chained  up,  and  could 
not  do  him  any  mischief.  His  father  told 
Frank  to  take  care,  as  he  passed  by  this  fierce 
dog,  not  to  go  within  his  reach — not  to  go 
within  the  length  of  his  chain.  Frank  took 
care,  and  walked  at  a  prudent  distance.  The 
tanner  came  out,  and  silenced  his  dog,  and 
then  Frank  could  hear  and  attend  to  what 
was  said. 

But,  though  he  attended,  he  did  not  under- 
stand all  that  the  tanner  said  ;  for  the  man 
spoke  in  a  tone  different  from  what  Frank 
had  been  accustomed  to  hear. 

"  Here  bees  my  tan-pits,  master,  if  that 
bees  what  you're  axing  for.  And  all  that  is, 
as  I  knows  about  it,  you  see,  master,  is  this, 
—  that  I  puts  the  skins  into  one  of  these  here 
pits,  first-and-foremost,  to  cleanse  it  of  the 
hair,  like ;  and  then  I  stretches  it  upon  a 
horse,  you  see,  and  I  scrapes  off  the  hair." 

"  And  does  the  horse  stand  still,"  said 
Frank,  "  while  you  are  doing  that  ?  " 

"  O,  bless  you,  master,  it's  a  wooden  horse 
I  be  thinking  of!  " 

"  O,  I  understand  !  But  what  is  in  this 
pit  ? " 

"  First-and-foremost,  I  puts  it  into  this  pit," 
said  the  tanner. 

"  First,  he  puts  it  into  this  pit,"  said 
19 


2 IS  EARLY    LESSONS. 

Frank's  father,  observing  that  Frank  did  no 
know  what  the  man  meant  by  first-and-fore- 
most,  which  he  pronounced  very  quickly,  and 
like  one  word. 

"  Master,  there  is  what  we  call  lime  water; 
and  then  I  puts  it  into  stronger  lime  water, 
to  soak  again ;  and  then  I  takes  it  out,  and 
hangs  it  to  dry,  and  then  again  soaks  it ;  and 
so  on,  till  it  is  fit  for  the  tan-pit,  here,"  said 
the  tanner,  pointing  to  a  pit. 

"  And  what  is  in  this  pit  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"The  bark,  master  —  nothing  in  life,  mas- 
ter, but  the  bark  and  water." 

"  The  bark!  "  said  Frank  ;  "  what  do  you 
mean  by  the  bark  ?  " 

"  I  means  the  bark,  that  is  ground  and 
thrown  into  this  here  pit  with  water." 

Frank  looked  to  his  father  for  explanation  ; 
and  his  father  told  him,  that  the  bark,  of 
which  the  tanner  spoke,  was  the  bark  of 
oak-trees. 

"  This  bark,"  continued  his  father,  "  con- 
tains something  called  tannin,  which,  after  a 
length  of  time,  gets  into  the  pores,  or  open- 
ings, in  the  leather,  and  makes  it  hard.  And 
after  that,  when  the  leather  is  dry,  it  does 
not  let  water  easily  pass  through  it ;  and  then 
it  is  useful  for  making  shoes  and  boots,  and 
harness,  and  for  covering  trunks,  and  various 
other  purposes." 

"  But  what  is  that  something  called  tannin^ 
papa  ?  "  said  Frank. 


FRANK.  219 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  his  father.  "  But  I 
know  that  it  has  a  particular  taste,  which  is 
called  astringent ;  and  that  it  makes  leather 
hard,  and  fit  to  keep  out  water.  Dip  your 
finger  into  that  pit,  where  you  see  bark 
and  water,  and  taste  the  liquor,  and  then 
you  will  know  what  is  meant  by  an  astrin- 
gent taste." 

Frank  dipped  his  finger  into  the  tan-pit, 
and  tasted  the  bark  and  water ;  and  he  under- 
stood what  was  meant  by  an  astringent  taste. 

"  Ts  this  all  that  you  can  tell  me,  papa  ?  " 

"  All  that  I  can  tell  you  at  present,  my 
dear.  When  you  are  able  to  understand  it, 
you  can  read  more  on  this  subject  in  Con- 
versations on  Chemistry." 

"  But  I  do  not  see  here  any  of  the  red  or 
green  colored,  smooth,  shining  leathers,  which 
1  saw  at  the  shoemaker's." 

"  No  ;  they  are  not  made  at  a  common 
tanner's.  They  are  colored,  and  made  smooth 
and  shining,  as  you  saw  them,  at  the  leather- 
dresser's." 

Frank's  next  wish  was,  to  go  to  a  leather- 
dresser,  and  to  learn  how  the  leather  was 
made  of  these  beautiful  colors.  The  tanner 
said,  that  he  always  sent  his  leather,  as  soon 
as  it  was  tanned,  to  a  leather-dresser  who 
lived  in  a  town  at  twenty  miles'  distance 
from  him,  and  from  the  place  where  Frank's 
father  and  mother  lived. 

They  could  not  take  him  to  the  leather- 


220  EARLY    LESSONS. 

dresser's  conveniently.  In  a  book,  a  sort  of 
dictionary,  which  his  father  lent  to  him, 
Frank  afterwards  looked  for  an  account  of 
the  manner  in  which  leather  is  dyed.  He 
found  that  he  could  not  understand  it ;  so  he 
turned  his  attention  to  something  else,  which 
he  could  understand. 


The  next  day,  he  passed  by  a  nailer's 
forge,  and  he  asked  his  father  to  take  him  in, 
and  to  let  him  see  how  nails  were  made.  In 
the  course  of  a  few  weeks  afterwards,  he  saw 
several  other  things  which  entertained  him. 

Last  year,  when  he  had  seen  the  sheep- 
shearing,  and  had  been  told,  that  the  wool 
cut  from  the  back  of  the  sheep  could  be  made 
into  cloth  for  a  coat,  such  as  that  which  he 
wore,  he  had  been  curious  to  know  how  this 
could  be  done.  His  mother  showed  him 
how  the  wool  is  spun  into  woollen  yarn ;  and 
this  year,  when  he  was  able  to  understand  it, 
his  father  showed  him  a  loom,  and  explained 
to  him  the  parts  of  the  machine  ;  and  showed 
him  how  woollen  yarn  is  woven  into  cloth, 
by  means  of  a  loom. 

This  summer,  Frank  saw  several  other 
things,  about  which  he  had  been  curious. 
His  father  showed  him  how  books  are  print- 
ed, in  a  printing-press.  And,  some  time 
afterwards,  he  took  Frank  to  a  glass-house, 
and  let  him  see  men  making  several  things  — 


FRANK.  221 

bottles,  decanters,  tumblers :  he  saw  them 
pull  the  glass,  when  it  was  hot  and  soft,  into 
various  shapes ;  and  blow  air  into  it,  and 
blow  it  out  into  any  forms  they  pleased.  This 
entertained  him  exceedingly. 

But,  whenever  Frank  saw  any  thing  that 
entertained  him  much,  he  always  wished 
that  he  had  his  brother  Edward,  or  his  cousin 
William,  or  his  cousin  Frederick  or  Charles 
to  tell  it  to.  They  were  gone  home,  and  his 
brother  was  gone  to  school ;  and  Frank 
wished  that  he  had  some  companion,  of  nearly 
his  own  age,  to  talk  to  and  to  play  with. 

Frank  had  a  little  cousin  Mary ;  and  about 
this  time  little  Mary,  who  was  between  five 
and  six  years  old,  was  brought  to  his  moth- 
er's house.  Mary  was  dressed  all  in  black 
when  Frank  first  saw  her ;  and  she  looked 
very  melancholy.  Frank  went  to  his  father, 
who  was  standing  in  another  part  of  the 
room  ;  and  he  whispered  to  his  father,  and 
asked  why  Mary  was  dressed  in  black,  and 
why  she  looked  so  melancholy.  His  father 
answered,  — 

"  Because  her  mother  is  dead.' 

"  Poor  girl !  "  said  Frank.  "  If  my  moth- 
er was  dead,  how  sorry  I  should  be !  Poor 
little  Mary !  what  will  she  do  without  a 
mother  ?  " 

"  Mary  is  to  live  with  us,"  said  his  father  ; 
"your  mother  and  I  will  take  care  of  her, 


222  EARLY    LESSONS. 

and  teach  her,  as  well  as  we  can  ;  and  you 
will  be  kind  to  her,  will  you  not,  Frank  ? " 

"  That  I  will,  papa,"  said  Frank. 

He  ran  directly  for  those  of  his  playthings 
which  he  thought  would  please  her  the  most. 
And  he  spread  them  before  her.  She  looked 
at  them,  and  smiled  a  little ;  but  she  soon  put 
them  down  again,  and  did  not  seem  to  be 
amused  by  them.  Frank  took  her  to  his 
garden,  and  gathered  for  her  those  of  his 
flowers  which  he  liked  the  best ;  but  she  did 
not  seem  to  like  them  nearly  as  much  as  he 
did,  or  as  much  as  he  had  expected  she 
would.  She  said,  — 

"  Thank  you  ;  but  mamma  had  nicer  flow- 
ers than  these  at  home  —  I  wish  I  was  with 
mamma  —  I  wish  mamma  could  come  back 
again  to  me." 

Frank  knew  that  her  mamma  could  not 
come  back  again  to  her ;  but  he  did  not  say 
so,  then,  to  Mary.  He  took  her  to  look  at 
the  house  which  he  was  building  ;  and  he 
showed  her  the  sticks  which  his  papa  had 
given  him  for  the  roof,  and  he  explained  to 
her  how  he  intended  to  roof  it,  and  how  he 
intended,  afterwards,  to  thatch  it ;  he  said, 
that  they  two  could  work  at  it  together,  and 
he  asked  her  if  she  should  like  it. 

She  said,  she  believed  that  she  should  like 
it  "  by  and  by,  but  not  then." 

He  asked  her,  "  what  she  meant  by  by 
and  by." 


FRANK. 

She  said,  "  To-morrow,  or  some  other  day, 
out  not  to-day." 

To-morrow  came  ;  and  little  Mary,  after 
she  had  slept  all  night,  and  after  she  had 
eaten  some  breakfast,  and  after  she  had  be- 
come better  acquainted  with  all  the  people  in 
the  house,  who  were  strangers  to  her,  began 
to  look  more  cheerful ;  and,  by  degrees,  she 
talked  a  little  more  ;  and,  presently,  she  began 
to  run  about,  and  to  play  with  Frank.  He 
played  with  her  at  whatever  she  liked  best ; 
he  was  her  horse,  for  that  was  what  she 
asked  him  to  be  ;  and  he  put  a  bridle  of  pack- 
thread round  his  body,  and  let  her  drive  him  ; 
and  he  lent  her  his  best  whip,  with  which  he 
let  her  whip  him  on  as  much  as  she  pleased. 

After  Mary  had  been  at  Frank's  home  for  a 
few  days,  she  began  to  call  it  her  home ;  and 
she  called  his  mother  "mamma,"  and  she 
seemed  happy  again.  But  Frank  could  not 
at  all  times  play  with  her  ;  he  had  several 
other  things  to  do ;  and,  when  he  did  play 
with  her,  he  did  not  choose  always  to  play  at 
the  play  which  she  liked  best.  Sometimes,  at 
night,  she  wanted  him  to  make  a  cat's  cradle, 
or  a  paper  boat,  for  her,  when  Frank  wished 
to  read  an  entertaining  book ;  and  sometimes 
he  wanted  to  work  in  his  garden,  or  to  go  on 
roofing  his  house,  when  she  wished  him  to 
be  her  horse,  or  to  roll  her  in  the  wheelbar- 
row. Upon  these  occasions,  Mary  was  some- 


EARLY    LESSONS. 

times  a  little  cross ;  and  Frank  was  some- 
times a  little  impatient. 

Frank  had  now  finished  roofing  his  house, 
and  he  was  beginning  to  thatch  it  in  the 
manner  he  saw  the  thatcher ;  he  wanted 
Mary  to  help  him ;  he  told  her  she  must  wait 
upon  him,  as  he  had  seen  the  laborer  wait 
upon  the  thatcher  who  thatched  the  barn. 
He  said  she  should  be  his  straw  man  ;  and 
he  showed  her  how  to  carry  the  straw ;  and 
he  charged  her  always  to  be  ready  when  he 
cried  out,  — 

"  More  straw  !  — more,  man  !  — more  !  " 

For  a  little  while,  Mary  served  him  well, 
and  had  the  straw  ready  when  he  called, 
"  More  straw  !  "  But  she  was  soon  tired, 
and  Frank  called,  — 

"  More  straw  !  —  more,  man  !  —  more  !  •" 
several  times  before  she  was  ready.  Frank 
grew  angry,  and  said  she  was  slow,  and  awk- 
ward, and  lazy  ;  and  she  said,  she  was  hot 
and  tired,  and  that  she  would  not  be  his 
straw  man  any  longer.  Frank  tried  to  con- 
vince her  that  she  was  wrong  ;  and,  to  prove 
it  to  her,  repeated  what  his  father  had  told 
him  about  the  division  of  labor. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  "  I  am  forced  to  come 
down  the  ladder  every  time  I  want  straw  ; 
I  lose  my  time,  and  I  cannot  get  on  nearly  so 
quickly,  as  if  you  carried  it  to  me.  When  1 
go  on  doing  one  thing,  and  you  doing  anoth- 
er, to  be  ready  for  me,  you  cannot  think  how 


FRANK.  225 

well  and  quickly  we  get  on  :  — that  is  dividing 
the  labor  —  the  division  of  labor  —  you  un- 
derstand ? " 

Mary  did  not  understand.  She  said,  "  I 
do  not  know  any  thing  about  that ;  but  I 
don't  like  to  be  your  straw  man  any  longer, 
arid  I  will  not." 

Frank  pushed  her  away,  telling  her  that 
she  might  go  wherever  she  pleased.  She 
stood  still,  and  began  to  cry.  Then  Frank 
was  sorry  he  had  been  so  angry  with  her ; 
and  she  dried  up  her  tears  when  he  told  her 
so,  and  she  said,  she  would  be  his  straw  man 
again,  if  he  would  not  call,  "More  straw!  — 
more,  man  !  "  so  very  fast ;  and  if  he  would 
not  call  her  stupid  or  lazy. 

To  this  Frank  agreed ;  and  they  went  on 
again  for  some  time,  he  thatching,  and  she 
carrying  straw,  and  placing  little  bundles 
ready  for  him  ;  and  they  were  very  happy  ; 
he  working  quickly,  and  she  helping  him 
nicely. 

"  How  much  happier  it  is  not  to  quarrel !  " 
said  little  Mary.  "  But  now  I  am  really 
quite  tired  —  will  you  let  me  rest?  " 

"  Yes,  and  welcome  !  "  said  Frank ;  "  though 
I  am  not  in  the  least  tired." 

He  came  down  the  ladder,  and  he  went 
and  looked  for  some  wood  strawberries,  and 
brought  them  to  her,  and  they  ato  them  to- 
gether very  happily. 


226  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  I  cut  and  you  choose  —  that  is  fair,  ia 
not  it,  Mary  ?  "  said  Frank. 

Whenever  any  pie  or  pudding,  fruit,  cake, 
or  any  thing  which  they  both  liked  to  eat,  was 
given  to  them,  Frank  was  usually  desired  to 
divide  it ;  and  this  he  did  with  the  most  accu- 
rate justice.  When  he  had  divided  it  as  well 
as  he  could,  he  always  desired  Mary  to  choose 
whichever  piece  she  liked  for  herself;  so  that, 
if  there  was  any  advantage,  she  might  have 
it.  This  was  being  just ;  but,  besides  being 
just,  Frank  was  generous.  Every  thing  that 
was  given  to  him,  to  share  with  his  little 
cousin,  he  always  gave  her  a  part,  and  often 
a  larger  or  a  better  part  than  that  which  he 
kept  for  himself.  Nobody  knew  this  but 
Mary  and  himself ;  for  he  did  not  want  to  be 
praised  for  it ;  the  pleasure  he  felt  in  doing  it, 
and  the  pleasure  he  saw  that  he  gave  her, 
was  quite  enough. 

But,  though  Frank  was  so  good-natured 
to  his  little  cousin,  yet  he  had  faults.  He 
was  passionate ;  and,  sometimes,  when  he 
was  in  a  passion,  he  did  what  he  was  after- 
wards very  sorry  for.  Till  little  Mary  came 
to  his  mother's,  he  had  not  been  used  to  live 
with  any  one  who  was  weaker  and  younger 
than  himself. 

When  he  found  he  was  the  strongest,  he 
sometimes,  in  playing  with  little  Mary,  took 
advantage  of  his  strength,  to  make  her  do 


FRANK.  227 

what  he  commanded  her ;  and,  when  he  was 
impatient  to  get  any  thing  from  her,  he  now 
and  then  snatched  or  forced  it  rudely  from 
her  hand.  One  day,  she  had  a  new  ball, 
which  she  held  between  both  her  hands,  and 
she  would  not  let  Frank  look  at  it ;  she  was 
half  in  play,  and  at  first  Frank  was  playing 
with  her  also  ;  but  when  she  persisted  in  re- 
fusing to  let  him  see  it,  he  grew  angry,  and 
squeezed  her  hands,  and  twisted  her  wrist 
with  violence,  to  make  her  open  her  hands. 
She,  being  in  great  pain,  cried  out  so  loudly 
that  Frank's  father,  who  was  in  the  room 
over  that  in  which  they  were,  came  down,  to 
inquire  what  was  the  matter.  Mary  stopped 
crying  the  moment  he  appeared ;  Frank 
looked  ashamed,  but  he  went  forward  to  his 
father  directly,  and  said, — 

"  It  was  I  who  hurt  her,  papa  —  I  squeezed 
her  hands  to  make  her  give  me  this  ball." 

"You  have  hurt  her,  indeed!"  said  his 
father,  looking  at  little  Mary's  wrist,  which 
was  very  red,  and  was  beginning  to  swell. 
"  O  Frank !  "  continued  his  father,  "  I 
thought  you  would  use  your  strength  to 
help,  and  not  to  hurt,  those  who  are  weaker 
than  yourself." 

"  So  I  do,  always,  papa ;  except  she  puts 
me  in  a  passion." 

<4But  the  ball  was  my  own  ball,"  said 
Mary ;  "  and  you  had  no  right  to  take  it 
from  me." 


228  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  I  did  not  want  to  take  it  from  you,  Mary  ; 
I  only  wanted  to  look  at  it ;  and  you  began 
first  to  be  cross  —  you  were  very  cross." 

"  No,  Prank,  you  were  the  crassest." 

"  You  are  both  cross  now,  I  think,"  said 
Frank's  father ;  "  and,  since  you  cannot 
agree  when  you  are  together,  you  must  be 
separated." 

Then  he  sent  them  into  different  rooms, 
and  they  were  not  allowed  to  play  together 
during  the  remainder  of  that  day. 

The  next  morning,  at  breakfast,  Frank's 
father  asked  them  whether  they  had  been  as 
happy  yesterday  as  they  usually  had  been; 
and  they  both  answered,  "No."  Then  he 
asked, — 

"  Do  you  like  better  to  be  together  or  to  be 
separate  ? " 

"  We  like  a  great  deal  better  to  be  togeth- 
er," said  Frank  and  Mary. 

"  Then,  my  dear  children,  take  care  and 
do  not  quarrel,"  said  Frank's  father;  "for, 
whenever  you  quarrel,  without  asking  any 
questions  about  who  was  cross,  or  Grosser,  or 
Grossest,  or  who  began  first,  I  shall  end  your 
dispute  at  once  by  separating  you.  You, 
Frank,  understand  the  nature  and  use  of 
punishment ;  you  know " 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  know,"  interrupted  Frank, 
"  that  it  is —  it  is  pain.  —  Papa,  will  you  ex- 
plain it  ?  for,  though  I  know  it,  I  cannot  say 
it  in  good  words." 


FRANK.  229 

"  Try  to  explain  it  in  any  words." 

"  When  you  punish  me,  papa,  you  give 
me  pain,  or  you  take  something  from  me 
which  I  like  to  have,  or  you  hinder  me  from 
having  something  that  I  like,  or  from  doing 
something  that  I  like  to  do " 

"Well,  go  on;  when,  arid  for  what  reason, 
do  I  give  you  pain,  or  prevent  you  from  hav- 
ing pleasure  ? " 

"  When  I  have  done  something  wrong, 
and  because  I  have  done  something  wrong." 

"  And  do  I  give  you  this  pain  of  punish- 
ment because  I  like  to  give  you  pain,  or  for 
what  purpose  ?  " 

"Not  because  you  like  to  give  me  pain,  I 
am  sure,  papa ;  but  to  cure  me  of  my  faults 
—  to  hinder  me  from  doing  wrong  again." 

"  And  how  will  punishment  cure  you  of 
your  faults,  or  prevent  you  from  doing  wrong 
again  ?  " 

"  You  know,  papa,  I  should  be  afraid  to 
have  the  same  punishment  again,  if  I  were  to 
do  the  same  wrong  thing ;  and  the  pain,  and 
the  shame,  of  the  punishment,  make  me  re- 
member. I  remember  them  a  great  while ; 
and  the  punishment  comes  into  my  head  — 
that  is.  I  think  of  it  again —  whenever  I  think 
of  the  wrong  thing  for  which  I  was  pun- 
ished ;  and,  if  I  was  tempted  to  do  the  same 
thing  again,  just  at  the  very  time  I  should 
recollect  the  punishment,  and  I  should  not 
do  it.  I  believe  " 


230  EARLY    LESSONS. 

"  Then,  according  to  your  description  of  it. 
just  punishment  is  pain  given  to  a  person, 
who  has  done  what  is  wrong,  to  prevent  that 
person  from  doing  wrong  again." 

"  Yes,  papa;  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  say." 

"  And  is  there  no  other  use  in  punishments, 
do  you  think,  Frank  ?  " 

"  O  yes,  papa !  to  prevent  other  people 
from  doing  wrong ;  because  they  see  the 
person,  who  has  done  wrong,  is  punished  ; 
and,  if  they  are  sure  that  they  shall  have 
the  same  punishment  if  they  do  the  same 
thing,  they  take  care  not  to  do  it.  I  heard 
John,  the  gardener's  son,  saying  yesterday 
to  his  brother,  that  the  boy,  who  robbed 
his  garden  last  week,  was  taken  and  had  been 
whipped ;  and  that  this  would  be  a  fine  ex- 
ample for  all  the  children  in  the  village,  and 
would  hinder  them  from  doing  the  same 
thing  again." 

"  Then,  just  punishment  is  pain  given,  to 
those  who  do  wrong,  to  prevent  them  from 
doing  that  wrong  again  ;  and  to  prevent  others 
from  doing  wrong." 

"  Yes,  papa,"  said  Frank ;  "  but,  papa, 
why  do  you  tell  me  all  this  ?  why  do  you  ask 
me  these  things  ?  " 

"  Because,  my  dear  son,  now  that  you  are 
become  a  reasonable  creature,  and  that  you 
can  understand  me,  I  wish,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, to  explain  to  you  the  reasons  for  all  I 
do  in  educating  you.  Brutes,  who  have  no 


FRANK.  23 1 

sense,  are  governed  by  blows  ;  but  human 
creatures,  who  can  think  and  reason,  can  be 
governed,  and  can  govern  themselves,  by 
considering  what  is  right,  and  what  makes 
them  happy.  I  do  not  treat  you  as  a  brute, 
but  as  a  reasonable  creature  ;  and,  on  every 
occasion,  I  endeavor  to  explain  to  you  what 
is  right  and  wrong,  and  what  is  just  and 
unjust." 

"Thank  you,  papa,"  said  Frank;  "  I  wish 
to  be  treated  like  a  reasonable  creature. 
Papa,  may  I  say  one  thing  ?  " 

"  As  many  things  as  you  please,  my  dear." 

"  But,  papa,  this  one  thing  is  about  you ; 
and  perhaps  you  will  not  like  it.  Papa,  I  do 
not  think  it  is  just  to  separate  Mary  and  me, 
whenever  we  quarrel,  without  examining  or 
inquiring  which  is  in  the  wrong." 

"  When  people  quarrel,  they  generally  are 
both  in  the  wrong." 

"  But  not  always,  papa ;  and  one  is  often 
more  in  the  wrong  than  the  other  ;  and  it  is 
not  just  that  the  one,  who  is  least  in  the 
wrong,  should  be  punished  as  much  as  the 
person  who  did  the  most  wrong." 

Here  Frank  paused,  and  the  tears  came 
into  his  eyes ;  and,  after  a  little  struggle 
with  himself,  he  added,  — 

"  Now  it  is  all  over,  papa,  I  must  tell 
you  that  I  was  most  to  blame.  I  was  the 
most  in  the  wrong,  in  that  quarrel  which 


232  EARLY    LESSONS. 

little  Mary  and  I  had  yesterday.  It  was  I 
who  hurt  her,  by  squeezing  her  hand  violent- 
ly, and" she  only  cried  out;  and  yet  she  was 
punished  as  much  as  I  was." 

"  My  dear,  honest,  just,  generous  boy  !  " 
said  his  father,  putting  his  hand  upon  Frank's 
head,  "  act  always,  feel  always,  as  you  now 
do  ;  and  when  you  have  been  wrong,  always 
have  candor  and  courage  enough  to  acknowl- 
edge it." 

Little  Mary,  who  had  gone  away  to  her 
playthings,  whilst  they  had  been  talking  of 
what  she  did  not  understand,  left  her  play- 
things, and  came  back,  and  stood  beside 
Frank,  looking  up  in  his  face,  and  listening 
eagerly  when  he  said  that  he  had  been  most 
to  blame  in  their  quarrel.  And  when  his 
father  praised  him,  Mary  smiled,  and  her  eyes 
sparkled  with  pleasure.  After  his  father  had 
done  speaking,  she  said,  — 

"  Frank  is  very  good,  to  tell  that  he  was 
the  most  wrong  ;  but  I  was  a  little  wrong  ;  I 
cried  more  than  I  should  have  done,  and  a 
great  deal  louder,  because  I  was  angry. " 

"  There  is  a  good  girl !  "  said  Frank's 
father,  stroking  her  head.  "  Now  that  is  all 
over,  let  us  think  of  the  future.  You  say, 
Frank,  that  you  do  not  think  it  just  that  you 
should  be  separated,  when  you  quarrel,  be- 
cause that  separation  is  the  same  punishment 
for  both,  when  perhaps  one  only  is  to  blame, 


FRANK. 


23' 


or  one  much  more  to  blame  than  the  other. 
Do  I  understand  you  ?  Do  I  state  clearly 
what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa  —  pretty  well  —  not  quite.  I 
think  the  separating  us  is  just  enough,  because, 
as  you  say,  when  we  quarrel,  we  generally 
are  both  to  blame  more  or  less,  and  besides, 
when  we  are  angry,  we  cannot  have  any 
pleasure  in  being  together.  So  I  give  up 
that.  But  I  think  that,  before  you  separate 
us,  you  or  mamma  should  always  inquire,  and 
find  out,  which  of  us  is  most  to  blame,  and 
exactly  how  much ;  and  then  the  person, 
who  has  been  the  most  wrong,  will  have  the 
most  shame ;  and  that  will  make  the  punish- 
ment just  as  it  should  be." 

"  Well  argued,  my  boy  !  This  would  be 
strictly  just,  as  far  as  you  two  are  concerned  ; 
but  you  must  consider,  also,  what  is  just  for 
your  mother  and  for  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  papa  ?  I  do  not 
want  to  punish  mamma  or  you  —  you  do  not 
quarrel ;  "  said  Frank,  laughing.  "  I  do  not 
wish  to  separate  you,  or  to  punish  mamma  or 
you,  papa  —  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Listen  to  me,  and  perhaps  I  shall  make 
you  understand  me.  You  say  you  do  not 
want  to  punish  me  or  your  mother ;  and  yet 
you  would  punish  us  both  whenever  you 
quarrelled,  if  we  were  obliged  to  give  up  our 
time,  and  to  leave  whatever  we  were  doing, 
20 


234  EAKLY    LESSONS. 

that  was  agreeable  to  us,  in  order  to  settle 
which  of  you  two  was  most  to  blame,  in  a 
dispute,  perhaps,  about  a  straw,  or  something 
3f  as  little  value.  Now,  suppose  you  two 
~vere  to  quarrel  every  hour " 

"  O  sir !  "  interrupted  little  Mary,  "  quarrel 
every  hour !  — O,  O,  that  is  quite  impossible." 

"  But  my  father  only  says,  suppose.  We 
•tan  suppose  any  thing,  you  know,"  said 
Frank.  "  Well,  suppose,  papa " 

"And  suppose,  Frank,  that  every  hour  it 
would  require  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  your 
mother's  time  or  mine  to  listen  to  both,  and 
settle  which  was  most  to  blame " 

"  A  quarter  of  an  hour!  that  is  a  great  deal 
too  much  time  to  allow." 

"  We  have  been  talking  now,  Frank,  above 

Quarter  of  an  hour,  I  think." 

Indeed !    I   never   should    have   guessed 
hat !  " 

"  Should    not    you  ?     When    people    are 
much  interested  about  any  thing,  they  talk 
j>n  a  great  while,  without  considering  how 
ime  passes." 

"  That  is  true.  Well,  allow  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  each  quarrel,  and  one  every  hour," 
said  Frank. 

"  And  count  twelve  hours  as  a  day.     Then 
welve  quarters  of  an  hour,  Mary,  how  many 
whole  hours  will  that  make  ?  " 

Mary  answered,  after  thinking  a  little 
while,  "  I  don't  know." 


FRANK.  235 

Frank  answered,  "  Three  hours." 

"  So,  three  whole  hours,  Frank,  your  moth- 
er or  I  must,  according  to  your  plan,  give  up, 
every  day,  to  settling  your  quarrels." 

"  That  would  be  too  much,  really  !  "  said 
Frank.  "  But  this  is  only  arguing  on  your 
suppose,  papa." 

"  Well,  state  that  you  quarrel  only  once  a 
day ;  tell  me  why  your  mother  or  I  should  be 
punished  by  taking  up  our  time  disagreeably 
in  settling  your  little  disputes,  provided  any 
other  manner  of  settling  them  would  succeed 
as  well.  Be  just  to  us,  Frank,  as  well  as  to 
yourself  and  to  Mary." 

"  I  will,  papa  —  I  will  be  just  to  you.  I 
acknowledge  we  should  not  take  up  your 
time  disagreeably,  in  settling  our  disputes,  if 
they  could  be  settled  as  well  any  other  way . 
but  all  depends  upon  that  if.  You  will  ac- 
knowledge that,  father." 

"  I  do  acknowledge  it,  son.  This  question 
can  be  decided,  then,  only  by  experience  — • 
by  trying  whether  the  fact  is  so  or  not.  Let 
us  try  my  way,  if  you  please,  for  one  month ; 
and,  afterwards,  if  mine  does  not  succeed,  I 
will  try  yours." 


END. 


UCSB   LIBRARY 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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